Understanding Silence
by WafflePop
Summary: There need not have been such pure antagonism between them, but such was the result of too many silent misunderstandings. Could they have been great friends otherwise? Features Mello, Near, and Matt at Wammy's. Rated for language and violence.
1. Trial

Note: Since this is my first attempt at a multichapter, I need all the critiques I can get!

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or it's characters.

* * *

**Trial**

"Shut the hell up, you little spawn of Satan!" His brother slapped him across the face. "I should have killed you when I had the chance ..."

But for little Nate, it was easier said than done. He knew it would do no good to punch and cry. It would do no good to kick or scream either, but he was only three and could not simply control his emotions despite his rational mind telling him otherwise. He punched, he cried, he kicked, and he screamed. So he got another blow, an impact so hard that he almost blacked out.

"I can't wait to get rid of you!" The older boy dragged the younger's limp body across the deserted streets in the middle of the night.

Nate had seen it coming. He had deserved this, because he had known better. He had known better, yet he still had not been able to restrain himself. He knew that his brother, only eight, was already having a difficult time keeping both of them alive all by himself, but he had been young and desperate for company, for attention, and everything he did to secure that only pushed his target further and further away. Eventually he took it too far, and big brother had finally had enough.

Nate looked up at a run-down building that was now in front of him and then glanced at his brother, who did not look back. "Stay here till morning. Some grown-ups will come get you. Just say that you're homeless and lost, and they'll take care of it. Don't mention me. Don't you dare mention me."

He dragged the toddler onto the front steps of the building and shoved him forcefully to the ground. "I'm doing you a favor, kid. I've kept you alive this long, but I can change my mind at any time. If you even think about coming back to mess with me again, I swear, I won't spare you a second time ... I swear will kill you on the spot!" He disappeared without another word.

The tears had long since dried out, but Nate was still crying.

* * *

A new arrival. The word was out, and everyone was rushing to catch a glimpse of the newcomer. What did he look like? How old was he? Was he a boy or a girl?

Near was not interested. He stacked another domino on top of his two feet high tower. He recalled when _he_ had first entered here not too long ago at the age of five. The man had taken him from that dilapidated shack that also had the nerve to call itself an orphanage to this current residence. After participating in a series of boring tests that confirmed the transition, the little boy had inquired as to why he was to be transferred. The man simply smiled and replied, "You're special."

Everyone here was special. Children invited to the House were generally chosen based on a series of tests given by the staff that assessed their potential intelligence level. These tests included written and verbal knowledge-based, problem solving, and deductive reasoning tests as well as genetic tests to determine inborn intelligence. If they found your scores satisfactory, you were invited to join Wammy's House, a home for fostering geniuses with the goal that one of them will become the next greatest detective in the world. Education started as early as was possible for a given child, and the rate of learning progressed as quickly as the child was able to handle, regardless of age.

Near had certainly been special at the old orphanage, and he was still special here. He had easily outpaced everyone in his first few classes even without formal schooling prior to entering Wammy's. By age 7, he had already earned his place as Wammy's first rank, out of some 50 of the most brilliant young minds in the world, including children in their teens, the youngest student to ever even make it into the top 10, much less 1st place. The children despised him for it, but Near did not care.

"I heard he was almost beaten to death," they continued to gossip.

"Did you see him? There were chocolate wrappers all over the floor!"

"I just saw the nurse go get more too. What a strange fellow."

Typical. Near lifted another domino. They spoke of pain and abuse as if it was simply an amusement of some sort. Nobody here actually had any interest in anybody else other than for just that, amusement.

...

A few days later, Near was looking for food in the kitchen when something caught his eye, a brand new carton of chocolate. He picked up a bar and examined it. Nice and stable. They would make decent building blocks. He grabbed a pastry then dragged the carton to the lobby to begin today's construction project.

The fort was taller than the boy himself, who had been kneeling in the center of the lobby for about half an hour. He had already finished two towers and three walls and was in the process of building a fourth. Near preferred to spend his time this way. Stacking and balancing objects helped him concentrate, which facilitated thinking.

Unfortunately, that concentration would soon be broken. Near tugged at a lock of hair. They were footsteps, rushed footsteps. Someone was agitated and heading for the lobby where the boy had already claimed his territory.

_Oh_. He suddenly realized. _Stupid_. These chocolate bars were a new brand, weren't they? Near frowned at his own carelessness. They were new, delivered shortly after the arrival of … but he didn't need to finish the thought. The new kid had already entered the room. Near could not see him above his fortified walls, but he could hear the footsteps steadily grow louder.

"Those are mine," spoke a stern voice in broken but understandable English. The new boy had only been at Wammy's for a little over a week and appeared to have already picked up a fairly good amount of English. It would have impressed any person outside the orphanage, but it would not have impressed the children here, and it did not impress Near.

_That petty? Not worth my time_. Within seconds, part of his tower collapsed as chocolate bars flew all over the floor. The shadow of the other child loomed over him even closer now.

"I said those are my snacks, not your building blocks!" the intruder shouted with malice.

He looked up. Towering over him was a blond child adorned in all black, the complete opposite of Near. He appeared to be slightly older than Near and sprouted medium length hair that draped around his chin, hiding a few soft bruises that were still clearly visible. So the rumors had been true.

"They were in the kitchen. They were for everyone." Near stated as he went back to his fortress, but the angry child did not bow out.

"Right. You said they're for everyone, and yet you're hogging them all."

_Pitiful_, thought Near, _you'll have to try better than that to back up your argument._ He responded calmly, "I said they _were _for everyone. When they are still in storage, they are for everyone, but when someone claims them, they become possessions." The blond child kicked over the rest of his fortress without a thought. _Using violence to solve your problems._ Near twirled a strand of hair. _So this one had __anger issues._

For the remainder of that afternoon, Near continued constructing and reconstructing his work, as the new kid would keep destroying it over and over upon near-completion. When he wasn't knocking down the fortress, he would be eating the chocolate used to assemble it. Eventually, discarded chocolate wrappers outnumbered the building blocks themselves, but Near did not react.

The visitor scowled. He could not understand why this kid simply refused to pay attention to him. It was puzzling, disconcerting even, but he refused to just give up and walk away. However, he was completely unaware that Near had in fact been entirely attentive to him from the start. He was not ignoring him out of humor or hostility. He was actually not ignoring the boy at all but secretly observing him in silence. He had trained himself to disregard people, and his aloof attitude typically turned others away. They would all eventually leave him alone out of either frustration or boredom, but apparently, this new boy would not. He would not leave Near alone even after hours of silence, and it had caught the child's interest.

Another hour later, a staff member came by.

"Near, Mello, dinner's ready. Would you like to join us or will you be needing a late plate?"

"I'm fine," said Near monotonously. "I'm not hungry."

"Neither am I!" Mello followed immediately, trying to sound impressive.

Near rolled his eyes. _Of course you're not, captain obvious, you just ate half your weight in chocolate bars._

The grown-up left, but the break in silence had finally prompted Mello to speak again.

"I heard everyone here's pretty smart."

Near said nothing.

"I'm pretty smart myself. I got the best grades at my old school." He smiled as he said it, trying to analyze Near's reaction as well.

"Is that so?" It wasn't a question. It was a dismissal. Near knew everything he needed to know now and had no more need for observation. This new guy was just like any other overconfident, clueless kid.

Mello got the message. The indignant boy huffed and stormed out. Before leaving the room, however, he turned and declared, "You don't believe me, but I'll be starting school soon, and I'll show you myself!"

Near twirled his hair. Judging by his short temper, the new kid would definitely break as soon as the tests began. Mello was too proud and egotistical for his own good, possibly out of insecurity, claiming to be the best at his _old_ school in order to impress his peers, which only proved to Near that he was not the least bit prepared for a _new_, far more advanced environment such as Wammy's. He was surely setting himself up for failure.

...

Two weeks later, Near turned eight, and the academic semester began. After the first series of exams had passed, the cumulative scores and rankings for the new semester were posted on the main bulletin.

Mello looked eagerly for his name on the roster. The top mark belonged to Near, but he was not particularly surprised, having snooped around Wammy's for enough information to know that much. He would catch up soon enough as long as he had a good start now. Mello's eyes traveled further down the list, second, third, fourth, fifth … This can't be right. They must have missed his name. They must have!

But they didn't miss the boy's name. Mello's eyes wandered all the way down to the bottom of the roster, refusing to believe what he had gradually came to suspect. Sure enough, he found his name. Dead last.


	2. Worth

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Death Note does not belong to me

* * *

**Worth**

"I made it! I made the best scores out of everyone! Look Look!" 8 year old Mihael waved his progress report in front of his father, who was lying on a torn sofa, drinking another can of beer. The report reflected almost perfect scores, and on the bottom, the teacher had made a note, at the boy's own urging of course, indicating that Mihael did indeed currently rank first in his class.

His father scoffed. "You think that will change anything about you? About us?" He took a gulp of alcohol. "Fuck off, kid! Stop trying for nothing and wasting my money."

The boy faltered. He had hoped that after making it to the top, his father would finally have hope for him, seeing him as more than just a miniature version of himself, a lazy, stupid, pathetic, good-for-nothing bum. But nothing had changed. The old could not hope for a better future, and he could not bear to see his child as anything better than himself. He would never grow out of that terrible inferiority complex towards his own son.

"Quit school," he had urged, laughing bitterly, "You're not gonna get anywhere anyways."

I'm not you, thought Mihael, trembling. I'm not worthless, and I will make something of myself, just like mom.

Oh, how he longed for his mother, his successful and perfect mother, to come visit them again so that he can finally show her his accomplishment. Perhaps then she would finally notice him and take him away to live with her in that huge mansion instead of leaving him with this pitiful man in this miserable wreck. Mihael glanced at the calendar, where he had marked off the days until his mother would come visit again.

Only three more weeks left.

...

Three weeks later, Mihael woke up in the hospital with fractured bones, ruptured vessels, and battered skin, having nearly been beaten to death.

* * *

Mello stared blankly at the scoreboard.

This- There must have been some mistake. There must have!

It was no use. No matter how long he eyed the roster, the rankings refused to shift. His name continued resting at the bottom. _Last_, it sneered at Mello, _you were dead last._ _Ranked even lower than the youngest kids in your class. _Mello felt all eyes on him. He felt hints of his miserable, good-for-nothing father haunt him. He felt traces of his pretentious, better-than-everyone mother looking down on him.

Near casually walked by, having confirmed his own scores with no more reason to be there. Mello expected an I-told-you-so of some sort, but he got nothing.

So, he was still not even worth talking to, huh? Mello bowed his head in shame.

Could he blame the boy for ignoring him? He had foolishly proclaimed his abilities to Near that day in the lobby, not knowing at the time that N had actually been the highest ranking student at Wammy's. When Mello eventually found out, he had frantically crammed for his classes, hoping that he could back up his words and impress the boy, only to subsequently fail, now lying at the bottom of the rankings. Humiliation. Could he really blame Near, who sat at the top with the utmost prestige, to not even notice him?

No, he deserved this silent treatment, because he was worthless anyway.

Mello shook his head furiously. _No_, they would see his value soon enough. Hadn't that been the same scenario back in grade school? Hadn't he proven that, even though he came from a destitute household with practically nothing of value, he could still single-handedly raise himself up to be the best of the lot? He was able to reach the top there, despite all the derision and doubts, and he could do it here too.

Mello eyed the small boy as he turned the corner. He would get Near to notice him. He would prove his worth to him.

...

That night, the blond stayed up until 2 AM studying, until his body finally gave out and crashed on top of the books. He dreamed.

He dreamed of flying through the rankings, 53, 45, 37, 22, 12, 10, 6, 3, 2. _Second place now_, dream Mello thought triumphantly to himself. He felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around. It was Near, the champion, the best of them all, and Mello had finally caught up to him. The boy smiled. At last, he smiled at Mello, encouraging him.

"Good job," Near congratulated his classmate.

Mello smiled back.

"But not good enough." The face still belonged to Near but the voice now belonged to a older woman, that horrifically familiar voice.

He woke up.

Damn, Mello cursed silently, clasping his hands to his head. He looked at the clock: 8:36 AM. Too much precious study time already wasted.

…

It didn't take long for Mello to notice that the adults hadn't been bluffing. This orphanage, this academy, was more than just an ordinary education facility. It was a training ground for geniuses. Every child who entered Wammy's had some genius trait in them by nature, but not Mello. He had entered the institution with merely an okay educational background and a hopelessly average innate intelligence level. They had warned him, had tried to discourage, but he had fought against them, and Mr. Watari had finally spoken up on Mello's behalf.

"He might not have the abilities, but he certainly has the passion," the old man had said pleasantly, "What would it hurt to give him a chance?"

Mello felt his eyes moisten and blinked them dry. That had been the first time that anyone had willingly recognized the blond's potential for success, had willingly praised him for anything. He had promised Mr. Watari, promised them all, that he would do his best to show that he was indeed suitable for this great institution, and he would not let him down now. Mello wiped his eyes and snapped off a piece of chocolate. He then turned back to the books.

...

However, even trying to play catch-up had been immensely difficult. While Mello spent every day and night pouring over study materials just to figure out where to start, the other kids would have already finished their homework the day they were assigned, spending the rest of their free time pursuing personal projects. Near, in particular, could finish his assignments at an unbelievable rate, far more quickly than anyone else in the house. Mello admired him greatly, but it only disheartened him even more knowing that he was still so far behind.

A week passed. Still ranked last.

Another week passed. Still last.

And another. Still.

Then suddenly one day, Mello moved up a rank. Finally, there was progress.

...

"Uh, could you keep it down please?" Mello had asked the gamer one day.

No response. Just the sound of video game music and explosions.

Mello fumed. Is everyone in this damn place deaf? He marched over to the boy and snapped loudly in front of his face.

"Matt," he tried to keep his fury down, having been forced to take anger management sessions for previous outbursts, "I asked if you could keep it down. I'm trying to study."

The brunet looked up, unfazed. They had never spoken before, but Mello knew who he was. He had researched everyone at the orphanage, children and staff alike. Matt, age 9, like Mello. Ranked 27th, right at the halfway point.

"Huh? Yeah sure." He didn't even seem to care, irritating Mello even more. Getting up to leave, Matt noticed the subject of his intruder's study, computer science.

He chuckled. "This is what you've been working on the whole time? Dude, this is easy."

"I can do it myself!" How dare he look down on him?

"Nah, man," He smirked, amused. "What are you doing reading that portion of code? That's the Makefile. You don't need to know that stuff for that class, I mean, unless you're interested in-"

"I'll do what I want!" Mello shouted, covering the computer screen, embarrassed. He despised having his ineptitude pointed out to him.

Matt simply shrugged and left. Mello huffed. He really had wanted help, but he could not admit it, especially not after the way that punk had treated him. So the angry child just sat there by himself, gruelingly deciphering every single line of code until dawn.

...

Shit. The program was due in an hour, and Mello had stayed up the entire night and _still_ had not finished debugging half of it. There was little time left, so he finally enlisted the help of an amused Matt, who in a matter of minutes, figured out the problem that had cost Mello hours.

"You solved that quickly," Mello mumbled, "And you didn't even have the same teacher when you took the class."

"It wasn't that different." He shrugged.

If Mello wanted to reach the top quickly, he needed help. At least for now, he needed that help. It was time to temporarily stifle the pride. He took a breath.

"Are you that good at math too?" He asked innocently.

"No way, man," Matt waved his hand, easily picking up on his questioner's real intentions. "This was just a one time deal. I wanted to see how long it would take for you to break. But I'm not gonna just go around offering free tutoring services." He laughed.

Mello clenched his fists and stormed to another desk, flipping his algebra book open. Forget it! He could do this on his own. Stupid Matt! Stupid everyone! _Stupid me_ ...

However, hours later, the brunet silently slid beside him again, pointing out problems in his equations and noting shortcuts and tricks to solving them. Mello glared at him but accepted the much needed aid.

_This is just to humor you, isn't it?_ Mello thought spitefully. _You think I'm some sort of charity case for your own entertainment? Well fine! Go ahead and think that. I'll take your help, and when I outrank you, you'll be the one needing mine!_

And so Mello had a study buddy, and his rank rose to 33rd after merely two more weeks. Surpassing the first ten took effort enough, but he had only been able to surpass the second set as quickly as he did with Matt's help, and it would only get harder from here on out. The level of education and rate of learning at Wammy's grew exponentially with rank, but little by little, so did Mello's own intelligence and rate of information processing.

He never thanked Matt, indignant that the brunet only used him for personal amusement, but showed his grudging appreciation by simply tolerating him, occasionally eating with him and playing video games with him after an exam was over, when he was not preparing for another one of course.

Truth was, however, the gamer was the closest thing Mello ever had to a friend. It wasn't just his smarts that had aided Mello in shooting up the rankings, but his mere presence, his companionship. Back home, there were no friends, only allies and enemies. You had to fight to survive in those less than agreeable neighborhoods, and there had been no room for camaraderie. Now, no longer alone, Mello felt an increase in hope, greater motivation, and that was the real reason behind his dramatic improvement.

Matt laughed as Mello got another problem wrong. The latter punched him in the arm.

Unfortunately, to Mello, his partner never took anything seriously and only saw the blond as nothing more than an interesting case study. As soon as Mello surpassed him, the guy would certainly lose interest. Therefore, he felt little guilt in never showing gratitude towards his so-called "friend."

...

All that time, Near appeared to take no notice, lost in his own world of puzzles, toys, and miniature buildings. Mello wanted so badly for Near to notice him, frequently attempting to speak with the child only to get ignored again and again. But that only made Mello want to work harder, convinced that once he finally reached the top, N would surely pay attention to him.

Insecure Mello, constantly paranoid of his own inferiority, idolized greatness, because by doting over that perfect image of greatness, he hoped to see it in himself and eventually become a part of it one day. He watched Near, tailed him, studied him, placed that idol on a dangerously high pedestal of prestige in his mind, dreaming of the one day that he would finally notice Mello back.

_When I reach the top, Mello thought eagerly, you will acknowledge me. So I will work harder. I must work harder. Longer hours of study. Fewer hours of rest ..._

On average, it took at least two weeks for a determined student to move up a rank in the 30s range, but in merely one week, Mello had miraculously maneuvered his way through _six_.

That day, he hit number 27, reaching the midpoint of the rankings and effectively surpassing Matt.


	3. Care

Disclaimer: Death Note not owned by me!

* * *

**Care**

"Can I help?" asked the abnormally highly developed 2 year old.

His worn out brother turned. "You're out of bed again?" He gently scooped up the child and carried him back to that pile of clothes and rags they called bed. "I'm sorry, Nate, but I don't think you should handle knives. It's late. Just sleep, kay?" He smiled. "Now that we finally have a fridge, we can keep food that will last a whole week, maybe more. Isn't that great?"

The small boy nodded and smiled back.

"So that means I won't have keep coming back every night to make next day's food for you. You can just grab them from the fridge whenever you want!" he continued, smiling. "Then I'll finally have more time to work to make money for us. I might even be able to make enough to get us our own place to live someday. "

Nate nodded again, smile fading. He didn't want big brother, only seven, to work longer hours, doing whatever shady, dangerous business he did, coming back only once every few days, exhausted, just to restock for his sake. He didn't want the fridge. He didn't want food. He didn't want his own house. He just wanted his brother.

Nate tugged at his tired sibling's sleeve as he tried to leave. "Dun go ..." he murmured.

Big brother looked down at him, unsure of what to do. Finally he sighed. Well, he guessed that he could put it off for a few more hours. He cradled Near affectionately until the latter finally fell asleep.

...

Three months later, the miniature refrigerator was completely destroyed.

The fridge that he had worked for countless, sleepless weeks to get for both of them … gone. Nate's brother turned to glare at him, heated tears welling up in his eyes. He breathed sporadically as though his lungs were about to burst.

"You …" He snarled at Nate. "Why? Why?" He was crying now, bawling. "I … It took me forever just to … All that time … All that effort ... All that money ... We needed it. Don't you understand? I did it for us to _survive_! What were you thinking?" He grabbed the frightened child by the shoulders and shook him senseless. "WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT?"

Frozen in shock, although the reaction had not been unexpected, Nate admitted, "I wahn you t'stay."

That had been the first of several signs of a crumbling relationship, and Nate had known the consequences.

He cried too. The little boy had not wanted his brother to hate him but feared losing him even more. So the young boy continued his antics, fully aware that by doing so, he was building a dangerous time bomb waiting to be detonated as soon as things went to far.

* * *

The word spread at lightning speed.

"Did you see? He moved up again! Christ!"

"Yeah, what gives? He had been at the bottom for like a month and -"

"Suddenly up 26 places? That fucker must have been trying to mess with us from the start, trying to catch us off guard."

"You're just jealous because he passed you after just one day, ha!"

"Nah, I bet it was Matt, they're always studying together, probably cheating together too."

"Dude, old M doesn't study."

"Whatever. I bet he'll burn out now that dear Matt can't help him anymore."

"Oh, really? What you wanna bet?"

"Screw you."

…

Near checked the rankings. 27th already. Impressive indeed.

The new kid had started out painfully average. Near had seen it right from the beginning and had at first wondered why he was even in Wammy's at all. He must have pulled some strings or had somebody pull them for him. He would not last for long. Or so Near had thought that first day they met, but he quickly revised his opinion as early as the second week of school, even though at that point, Mello had still been at the bottom of the rankings.

It was because Near recognized that passion. Everyone at Wammy's studied, but no one studied nearly as hard as Mello, because no one else had to. They had all been born as natural geniuses except for him. Near knew what real work and stress looked like. He had seen it once before, and he was seeing it again now. He had witnessed Mello collapsed over his keyboard from pulling consecutive all-nighters in the library. He had noticed him skip breakfast, lunch, and dinner in order to desperately secure a bit more study time. He had heard him banging on Matt's door at four in the morning, clearly exhausted but still intent on asking for help until he understood every last detail of an assignment.

As a matter of fact, he had probably noticed Mello more than anyone else in the orphanage had, mentally documenting his progress for weeks. Nobody knew this, particularly not M himself, and the he preferred to keep it that way. It would be pointless to cause unnecessary trouble otherwise.

He turned, and there stood his subject of contemplation.

_Damn, he's here again._ Although no one else realized it, it had been clear to Near that Mello's efforts at success were not only just for his own sake, but also to impress N himself. He knew all along, but he had known better than to get involved with this volatile boy.

If Near openly denounced Mello, then who knew what kind of chaos the easily-irritable, emotional kid could cause. But if he openly admitted to acknowledging him instead, Mello would see it as a battle won (and N does not lose), taking the opportunity to get even closer to Near, not only invading his personal bubble, but setting him up for an even deadlier time bomb. If they sustained any sort of close but fake relationship, a single wrong move could detonate that bomb that would have only been growing bigger and more destructive over time. He had found that out the hard way. So there was essentially no way out. Every route had its cons, and Near had to pick the least dangerous one, to simply ignore him.

The more he tried to ignore the guy however, the more persistent the latter had become, and here he was again. He had seen Near momentarily glance at his name on the roster, didn't he? The blond was starting to become more perceptive, more fit to be a detective. It was both commendable and annoying at the same time.

"That's just the beginning," Mello declared, proud of himself.

_I know_, thought Near. _I know you're not done yet._ _You won't be done until you reach the top. Until then, you'll continue slaving away, working countless days and nights. Working, always working, even though it would have been much easier to have just gone to an ordinary orphanage in the first place._

The internal dialogue distracted Near from answering M's implied question, were _you_ proud of me? He began to walk away. But Mello would no longer take silence for an answer, not after all the effort he had put in to get to where he was now. He raced after Near and swung in front of the boy, blocking his path.

"I know," he stated solemnly, "that I am only halfway there and it's just going to get harder from now on, but I can do it."

"I see," said Near, not hearing him.

Screw anger management sessions. How could this kid still not give a shit even after he had made such amazing progress? "Listen!" Mello erupted. "You think you're so much better than the rest of us? You think just because you were born with a big head, the rest of us can't even compete? I might not have been born a genius or raised a genius, but I can make myself into one. And I'll show you. I'll show you what I can do!" He marched off, pissed at Near, but more pissed at himself. How could he lose his temper so easily?

Near simply stared as the blond stormed down the hallway. He had misunderstood Near's intentions, taking his innocuous silence for arrogance, but what could the boy do? No, Near decided, it was better not to do anything. It was better to leave everything alone. He sighed and turned. Every route had it's cons, so just pick the least dangerous.

Mello ran to his room and buried himself in his bed. Angry tears soaked the covers as he cursed himself again and again. Even now, that miserable old man still had the power to haunt him to his very core. _No! _Mello forcibly crushed that idea out of his thoughts.

"I'm sorry, Near," he apologized to the mattress. "I promise I won't lose my temper again over my own insecurities."

If only promises were so easy to keep.

…

Matt's job was finished. He had brought Mello up until the blond had finally surpassed himself, so there was nothing left to do for him. Oh well. The gamer chewed on a lollipop stick as he jammed the keys of his controller.

Matt had lived at Wammy's since he was a baby. His parents had been brilliant, famous even, but their accomplishments also made them several jealous enemies, which led to their eventual assassination. It was rare for the staff to bring a baby to Wammy's, but they sometimes made exceptions when said baby clearly came from a long line of geniuses, as was the case with Matt.

The staff never treated him as anything more than just another future candidate for succession, an invention in the making, not a baby, toddler, or child. They fed him and clothed him, but they never held him nor spoke to him. Everything had always been so serious since as long as Matt could remember, and ironically, that only turned the world into a big joke for him.

The boy worked hard enough to maintain a happy medium in the rankings, even though he clearly had the potential to shoot higher, but left enough slack time to manage his continual boredom, usually in the form of playing video games, building and crashing software, and occasionally bugging the rooms in order to obtain any gossip from the kids and staff. He had been the first to find out about the new kid's whereabouts and background, and that day when Mello personally came up to him, Matt, unfamiliar with social interaction, took immediate interest, intrigued with the fiery spirit of this new guy up close and in person.

So he helped Mello. He helped him at first out of sheer amusement and curiosity, but he soon realized that this was not entirely the case. He also enjoyed Mello's companionship.

Growing up in the competitive environment of the house, "friendship" had not been a common term. It was all foreign to him, something you only saw in movies, not something that actually existed in real life. He had considered thinking of Mello as a friend, but the boy never thanked him for his help nor showed any sort of gratitude like the kind "friends" displayed in movies, so of course Matt concluded that the blond guy only cared about one thing, topping the rankings, and was only using Matt to meet that end.

Fine by him. In return, Matt, once again turned everything into a joke, treating Mello like some interesting case study, helping him as if only out of amusement rather than out of goodwill. There was no point in taking anything seriously. He knew Mello would eventually surpass him one day, and that afterwards, he would no longer need him anymore. Sure it would be disappointing to lose another source of entertainment, but it was essentially no different than finishing another game.

So imagine the boy's surprise when the blond knocked on his door one day after the rankings were again updated, with Mello now at 25th and Matt still stuck at 28th.

"Come on," Mello had said, "We're gonna go study."

As if nothing had changed.


	4. Fall

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note!

* * *

**Fall**

The pedestal, that dangerously high pedestal where the idol sat; It wobbled.

"But ... but I made the highest scores ... see?" Mihael was near tears.

"Out of what?" The woman laughed. "Those pack of rats at that shack you call a school? A monkey could make it to the top there." She flipped her expensive, permed hair and turned away from him. The pedestal cracked.

"But ..." He blinked furiously to keep the tears from coming out. "What if you take me with you?" He desperately tried to keep it stable. "Take me to a better school? I could do better, be the best-"

"Ha! With your father's genes?" She didn't even turn back around to look at him.

They're your genes too, Mihael wanted to say, but it was too late. It had already snapped in two, and the monument was falling.

"Mom ..."

She did not respond. She was ignoring him on purpose now, showing him how small he was, how he was not even worth noticing, not even after all this time, after he had finally made it to the top. It had never been enough, and it _still_ wasn't enough. All that hard work had been for nothing.

The idol hit the ground and shattered, and Mihael finally broke down in tears at the realization of what this woman truly was, a conceited, arrogant, condescending bitch! All those times she had come to pay them visits, it had not been because she had missed them, but because she had wanted to show off her own success to them, the success they could never obtain, make them feel lower than dirt, all for her own entertainment. Despicable. Repulsive.

_This had all been a game to you, hadn't it?_

That woman, whom Mihael had lived his entire life to please, to model after, to earn the love of, he finally realized. He _detested_ her.

* * *

Gratitude was something that Mello was neither comfortable nor familiar with, so naturally he tried to play it off as debt. You helped me, and so to repay my debt, I help you. He had his pride, after all.

Of course, that was not entirely true. Mello missed Matt's company. Now that he was soaring through the rankings, he started making more enemies, with the brunet being the only one who did not yet abhor Mello for outranking him. He was now a target for hostility, and isolation had not made him feel any better. Mello wanted that closest person to a friend to keep him company and provide comfort and motivation once more, but of course, he could not tell Matt any of that. He refused to humor him any more than he already had. So when Mello finally asked Matt to go study with him, it had come out as a demand rather than a request.

"Umm what?" Matt uttered, surprised, "Dude, I can't help you anymore alright? You beat me now, and I have my own shit to -"

"No," Mello interrupted. "I'm still going forward and you haven't gone anywhere. How do you think that makes me look? If I'm gonna go forward, then you're coming with me. I don't want people thinking that I'm the only charity case around here. Ha."

Matt thought for a moment. "So that's all, huh? You only want to redeem yourself by helping me now? Where's my say in this? I don't wanna do work."

_You're not fooling anyone, Matt,_ accused Mello silently.

"Don't play dumb." He called him out on it. "It's no work for you. I know how smart you really are. I've seen you breeze through those assignments. You're not stuck at the current rank you're in. You're just too lazy to move up. You're so pathetically bored all the time. Well don't you think you'd be a little less so if you get off your lazy butt and actually did something productive?"

"You think studying is fun?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Just shut up and come with me." End of question.

...

Mello forced Matt to keep up with him in the rankings. The latter did not have to do too much to keep up, but he had certainly been a pain to motivate. If Mello ranked 19th, Matt would rank 20th. If Mello ranked 14th, Matt would rank 15th. Whenever it seemed like Matt was trailing behind, the aggressive child would put all his effort into pulling him back up.

With inhuman strength and determination, Mello had been able to simultaneously push both himself _and _his partner up the ranking ladder, much to everyone's disbelief. He made sure that nobody would ever call Mello a charity case of Matt's or anyone's ever again.

"You think we could hit the top ten by the end of the semester?" Mello asked one evening. They were currently ranked 13th and 14th and had only three weeks of school left. It was generally expected to take well over a month to even move from 13th to 12th. To hit the top ten from unlucky 13 within three measly weeks? Unheard of! A joke!

"Are you suicidal?" Matt had responded. He sighed. He did not want to play Mello's tiring game anymore, but he still went along with it anyway, for god-knows-what reason. Although perhaps it was related to the fact that for once in his life, someone actually treated Matt like a real human being. Perhaps, anyway.

Finally the semester ended, and both M's indeed made it into the top ten, Matt 10th and Mello 9th. Nobody could believe their eyes.

...

The children were apprehensive of Mello by now. This boy, who had gone from the 50s to 9th within the course of one semester, he was dangerous. This had been the fastest, most unnatural rate of improvement that anyone had ever seen. The staff noticed, the children noticed, and Near noticed, but the latter was the only one who had not said a word about it, much to Mello's chagrin.

"Who does he think he is?"

"I'm gonna crush him once school starts again."

"Not if I crush him first!"

"I'm going to study more than ever this winter just so I can see his sorry face when I push him back down to where he belongs."

"Yeah, me too. That punk and his punk puppet deserve to stay at the bottom."

Winter break started, and Mello's rapid improvement had given him more confidence than ever. He saw winter break as an opportunity to build upon his intellect even more, to continue his rise to the top. However, his confidence soon plummeted as he realized that the other students had all planned to do exactly the same just to spite him. They weren't going to take any more of his crap. They were going to reclaim their rightful ranks. They were going to bring him down, back to the bottom, if it was the last thing they did.

At first they tried to discourage him verbally, and then came the physical abuse, but Mello was stronger than they had thought, despite his age and size, and the spirited boy had fought back bitterly. Eventually they got bored of the intimidation route and decided to beat the new kid at his own game.

That winter, every student, with the exception of Near, studied harder than ever, determined to show Mello where his place was. Mello had noticed and panicked, but what could he do? Finally, he determined that there was only one thing he could do, work even _harder_. The competition had been revived.

...

Near observed in puzzlement. When he had been the last miracle at Wammy's, the youngest child to ever make it to first place, a few kids were affected, but most of them just gave him dirty looks, picked on him a bit, then left him alone, giving up, not even bothering to compete anymore. But now this new miracle, Mello, who made it into the top ten with the most dramatic improvement, although by no means the best, had riled up the entire orphanage, given them incentive to improve themselves. Practically everyone had been affected. Why?

Near picked up a plain checkers piece and examined it.

Because Mello had been average. He had symbolized the hope that a normal child could surpass a genius, so perhaps common geniuses could surpass a prodigy. Unlike Near, who had done just the exact opposite. The child knocked over his checkers tower, just like Mello had done that day when they first met. He was upset for some reason.

...

The spring semester began, and after the first series of exams were over, all of the children rushed to look at the new rankings, freshly rearranged as the result of the academic renaissance. Mello could feel the tension as he anxiously headed for the scoreboard. Everyone except Near had studied so much more intensely over the past month, including the kids that Mello had yet to even beat, so what chances did he have of surpassing them _now_? How much longer would it take now to catch up to Near? What if he had even dropped a few notches? What if it were more than a few?

Mello breathed deeply. No, it would be okay. Just calm down. He had kept up with Matt over winter, after all, so that would certainly have been a good gauge, right? Shit. Shit. _Just please, don't let all my efforts be in vain_, Mello prayed to no one in particular.

He peeked at the list. His heart stopped. The earth stopped. Time itself stopped.

His name. It came second on the list. His brain took a moment to register the information, that unbelievable, inconceivable piece of information. How could that be possible? He looked again. Second. It had not changed.

He had ranked second, second only after Near himself. Even after everything the others had done to bring him down, it was _he _in the end who had still managed to crush them all! What one would expect to take years, he had managed to do over the course of one measly month!

Jealous eyes fixated on the runner-up, but he did not care. Mello grinned. Who's the genius now? He eyed them back, taunting them, challenging them, but what could they do? What could they possibly do anymore? He had made it to second, right up there with Near, so now N _has to_ notice him! He just has to!

...

Mello searched restlessly for the champion. Of course, the child was building something in the hallways, out of crayons this time it seemed. He strolled up to Near, barely able to contain himself. "Well, have you checked the rankings?" He was beaming, the pressure of the excitement unbearable.

"Yes," and that was it. Then came the silence.

That was it? Just that? Mello felt something wobble within him, but he tried to keep his cool. This was just how Near was, after all. No reason to take his nonchalance so personally.

And yet he wasn't so convinced.

"Did you see how everyone else did?" He asked hopefully, but it did not cease. It was both irritating and terrifying at the same time.

The child just continued balancing crayons on top of one another. Mello waited for him to respond. He waited and waited, but the boy remained focused on the crayons, never looking up from his construction work or giving any sign that he had even heard a question at all. Mello's muscles tensed as he soon realized that Near had no intention whatsoever of responding.

Something cracked. Near remained silent, placing another crayon on top of the delicate structure. As if nothing else was going on. That horrendous wobbling was unbearable, so it cracked a bit more. Then came that awful woman's voice.

_Still not good enough._ The pedestal, that dangerously high pedestal cracked from the bottom up.

_Still not good enough._ It branched out, continued rising, and eventually hit the top of the pedestal, directly underneath where the idol sat.

_Still not good enough. _And it snapped. It finally snapped, once again.

_You_ ... Mello fumed. _You think I'm still so much more beneath you? Beneath your notice? Not even deserving of a glance? Even after all this time, after all the shit I went through?_ He burned.

_Still not good enough._ The idol fell from that great height, accelerating and accumulating force, promising substantial pain for when it would finally hit the ground.

He remembered those endless, agonizing nights of frustration and exhaustion. He remembered those migraines and muscle pains, those panic attacks and tearful outbursts. He remembered the kids teasing him, picking on him, _threatening _him. All for a little bit of acknowledgment. And what did he get? Angry, furious, aching, heartbroken. He writhed. Because even after living through all that shit, it was _still _not good enough!

It hit the ground, shattered, and stabbing pain surged through the runner up's entire being.

One kick, and the crayons exploded in every direction.

"_NEAR_!"

His voice thundered, frightening the children in the hall. They backed away in fear but did not take there eyes off the scene out of twisted, morbid curiosity.

The runt still refused to look up, so Mello jerked the unwilling child by the scalp and forced him to meet his eyes.

They were murderous.

* * *

(Finally reached the halfway point of the story. =D No more nice and friendly from here on out. Oh the angst! lol)


	5. Game

Disclaimer: Death Note not mine!

* * *

**Game**

Nate took the bowl, but he could not find his appetite, so he spilled the contents on the ground instead and waited. He waited for a scolding, a beating even, but his brother did not even for a second glance in his direction. The silent treatment.

At first, he had yelled at Nate, and when that didn't stop the kid's destructive tendencies, he had turned to physical means. Yet even that had done no good. On the contrary, the more reactive he got, the more detrimental Nate's actions became. So finally, he chose not to respond at all. He would do what was necessary to keep both of them alive, but that was the extent of his concern. Of course, he could no longer leave the little punk alone in the room for more than 5 minutes or else bigger shit would start happening again, but he had made enough outside connections, successfully acquired that old lady's "missing" laptop, and figured out how to hack her wireless, that staying out for long periods of time was no longer a requirement. He could simultaneously do his work as well as keep an eye on the devil kid, all without needing to say so much as a word to him.

Nate scowled. It was no use. He had been winning the battles up to this point, kept his brother at close proximity, but the latter had figured out a cheat to this game. He would stay physically close while remaining mentally and emotionally detached, a dirty loophole, and Nate did not like the taste of losing.

He leered at the older boy, who was typing rapidly while making mental notes with his fingers (he had given up trying to record memos on paper since the evil leech would just destroy them later anyway). Nate pulled at a strand of hair as he tried to figure out what his brother was doing. He would always type rapidly, pause, maybe click the mouse once or twice, and then type rapidly again. It was almost as if he was having a conversation with the machine, or perhaps there were actually people inside the machine. Perhaps they were important people. And if so, were they aware that they were speaking to an insignificant eight year old child?

This silence, it was only just the calm before the storm. Nate had an idea, a simple yet dangerous idea. Unfortunately, he did not know the outside world well enough to think the plan all the way through.

Important people were also sometimes dangerous people, dangerous people who did not like being toyed with, and his brother had been an ingenious manipulator.

...

"Please!" The boy begged the old woman. "Please give me another chance! I promise I'll resolve this. I can even tell you what to say to the police too! I know I'm young, but I know my way around-" But the owner was adamant. She could not hide those diabolical kids in the basement, or what was left of the basement, any longer.

"Leave," she repeated, unmoved. The door slammed shut.

The older child dropped to the ground, defeated, crying and cursing. He had no place to live anymore. He had no more money left. He had lost all of his contacts and their support. He had lost every false identity he had ever forged. He had lost everything. Now he was once again just another homeless kid, just like what he had started out as. All of those years of hard work had all been for nothing! Fuck! FUCK! He sobbed.

Then slowly, the vicious eyes found Nate and burned through guilty, frightened youth. He knew it was that child who had exposed him. He just knew it.

"You …" He pointed a trembling finger at pale boy, "you demonic child ..."

* * *

Near had suspected that this would happen sooner or later.

"You arrogant little twit!" Mello forced him to lock eyes with his attacker, that vicious glare that had only been too familiar to him.

"Still too important to even say a word?" Mello's grip tightened.

Near remained silent. The least dangerous route, he mentally told himself, the least dangerous …

_The nerve ... The nerve of that ..._ Mello raised a fist but grudgingly lowered it at the last second. No, he was above all of this. Besides, there were cameras around and the staff must have already made movements to come interfere. He had to control himself. The infuriated blond reluctantly let go of the stoic child and gritted his teeth.

"This is all just another game to you isn't it?" Something that had clouded Mello's vision now cleared. "I see now." He continued, "M's unstable, he's dangerous." His countenance reflected something that was both indignant and fearful at that self-assertion.

"So the best thing to do is to just ignore him, hoping he'll go away, right?" His voice stabilized, but the underlying tension persisted. "I get it. I get it now. _I've_ been the fool, huh? Giving attention to someone who had wanted nothing more than to get as far away from me as possible since day one."

Near looked down and did not look back up. He had just wanted to be left alone. He had just wanted to keep out of trouble. Why was that so wrong?

"I nailed it, didn't I?"

Near displayed no outward reaction, but he was shaking violently on the inside. He had not wanted to get involved, to complicate things, to be that demanding, antagonistic little brat anymore. Yet here he was once again, causing trouble, antagonizing one of the few people he ever had any respect for.

The staff arrived. _About time_, Near silently scolded them.

"You think I'm so messed up? Fine." Mello declared. "I no longer care for your opinions, Near. You can keep that ego horded in that big head all for yourself. I don't want it. You're not perfect yourself, twit. I'll surpass you anyway. I'll be the best. Ha! I'll beat you by next week even! And don't think I'll ever look your way again either after I do, just like the way you've treated me." Mello let the adults grab his arms, turning and smirking bitterly at Near as they took him to Roger's office. The puny boy never looked up, but he could feel that gaze drifting over him.

…

Near retired to his room without a word to anyone. Those who had missed the performance eyed him in desperation, voicelessly begging for information, an encore. They were not worth his time. Among the latecomers was Matt, the new number three, now casually sitting in a corner playing some hand-held game as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Yet it had not escaped Near's notice the coincidence that the brunet just happened to pick the corner that lied halfway between the shortest route from Roger's office to Mello's room.

In the security of his own space now, the dispassionate boy flipped a puzzle piece back and forth, unable to decide where it belonged on the board, a problem that he had never had before. It irritated Near to no end.

Why? His normally resilient mind was currently throbbing in distraction.

He was troubled, frustrated, and he hated that feeling of mental chaos caused by those undesirable emotions, hated not being in control.

Why? Near did not know the answer, because he did not even know what the question was. So he gave up on the puzzle.

…

Twisting and turning in bed would only aggravate the situation, so he flung his pillow to the ground instead. It was easier for him to sleep on the cold, hard floor anyway. It gave him a sense of belonging, while the warm, comfortable bed was still, for some reason, too foreign to him. It did no good. Defeated, he flipped the light switch back on and stared at the mirror. He saw himself, Near, twirling a lock of hair around his index finger, as he often did when there had been something left unresolved.

Mello's unceasing words pounded at his skull. Something about that one-sided conversation earlier had been troubling him, causing internal conflict.

_"M's unstable, he's dangerous … just ignore him ..."_

That had been correct. Near had always thought so.

"_... wanted nothing more than to get as far away from me as possible since day one."_

Also correct. It had been the only way to preserve peace after all, even if the percentages were still too low for comfort. Rewind.

_"… just another game to you..."_

He blinked. Instantly, Near's reflection disappeared, and Nate's took its place instead. He dropped his hand. _Oh_. He had actually been incorrect on the second point. They had both been mistaken. Finally recognizing himself in the mirror, Near turned away.

Who had he been kidding? Just wanting to be left alone? To keep out of trouble? To give both of them peace? Asserting innocence by claiming ignorance? All amateur self-lies. Near dropped to the ground where his unfinished puzzle sat.

He was not so inattentive. He had in fact known since the very beginning that the silent treatment would only encourage the target even more, making him more persistent in the chase (so he and M were not so much unalike after all). He had known since that very first day in the lobby when he had carefully studied the newcomer for hours, noting Mello's unwillingness to leave him alone so long as they were glued together by silence. Of course he had known, and still he had tried to fool himself into believing that he was such a good little pacifist boy, but that could not have been further from the truth. Near had been far from innocent, and he knew it.

The child had not been trying to distance the two of them, as M had claimed and N had pretended to believe, but had been actually trying to accomplish just the opposite. He had purposely treated Mello with indifference this entire time _precisely_ in order to reel in the obsessive, reactive boy even more.

Near picked up the puzzle piece that he had been having trouble with earlier and examined it.

He glowered in disgust. After all these years, he had still been that same attention seeking, power hungry, manipulative little control freak, only using opposite tactics this time. He had never changed. He had never outgrew his childish tendencies. This really _had_ just been a game all along, a sensitive, enthralling, and disturbingly twisted little game of power.

_Where did it belong?_ Near flipped the piece over and over as he let his emotions diffuse and his concentration take over once more. "I am not a good person," he concluded.

Such a simple statement was all it took for NEar to instantly figure out where the piece resided the board. He systematically finished the rest of the puzzle with ease as well, satisfied. With the jigsaw completed, Near was finally able to fall asleep in closure.

...

Several children cry when they become emotionally stressed and burdened by funny things such as guilt and frustration. Near used to cry frequently himself at a younger age as well, but he had long since learned to control, no, stifle those disturbances, so that they could never overtake him again. As proof of his success, the boy had not shed a single tear in over four years.

So of course Near had every reason to be annoyed that next morning after waking up to the discomfort of his own pillow, which had somehow gotten noticeably damp overnight.

…

"I think it's time you know your reason for being here." Roger had said.

Mello had not expected his punishment to be too harsh, since he had not actually injured Near in any way, but he had certainly not been expecting a reward for it either.

"And?"

Of course he had already known that this was not just a special orphanage for some random smart kids. They obviously had an ulterior motive for going through such lengths to foster these children's intellect, but that piece of information was not something that anyone had been willing to share with Mello. He had assumed that most of the others either did not actually know the reason themselves, or it must have been such a vital secret that one had to earn it on his own.

Oh right. He had hit second in the rankings earlier that day, so this must be the reward for his progress. Despite going through the big revelation just that morning, he had already forgotten how elite it had felt to obtain second place. Just like it had been with all the other rankings, there was no longer anything special about this one either.

Roger cleared his throat before he spoke again.

"Tell me, Mello, have you ever heard of the great detective named L?"

* * *

(Cleaning, packing, moving, and starting school will keep me from updating for awhile, so I pre-apologize for what will certainly be a rather slow update rate in the near future. But I don't think there will be any more than 3 chapters left anyway.

And also, I'll try my best to make the rest of the story more "show" and less "tell," something that I realized is definitely harder to do in a multichap than in the oneshots I'm used to, for me anyway. As usual, any and all critiques are greatly appreciated!

Until then, peace!)


	6. Drive

(Warning: First scene contains a good dose of violence.)

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note or any of it's awesome (and rather messed up) characters!

* * *

**Drive**

"I'm sorry, Mihael …" He had genuinely loved his son, but that love had never been reciprocated, and the ungrateful punk had always chosen that bitch over him. True, he had not been a very good father himself, but he had wanted to. If only he had gotten a chance, instead of being shut out again and again, which had only driven him insane with jealousy. It did not help either that the insecure old man only ever registered the worst side, the worst possibility of every situation.

Now that the boy had become a successful student, the old man's worst fears, he was certainly on his way to becoming just like her as well. It hurt. Would they go live together now, leave and be happy, never looking back? Would he be left alone now to wallow in his own failure and misery for the rest of his life? God, those unbearable thoughts!

He tossed an empty beer can aside. It had to end now.

The man clutched the cutting board tightly and approached the sleeping, unsuspecting child. "I'm sorry" He whispered again, voice trembling, and down came the wooden plank.

The youth did not even have a chance to fully resume consciousness before he blacked out entirely after a single involuntary gasp.

_Quickly!_ Another blow, and another, and another. The old man sobbed and cackled at the same time, bloodshot eyes penetrating the boy yet not focused on anything in particular. _This would all be over soon_, he promised.

The mutilated body appeared inanimate, but it might still have some life clinging to it, so he had to deliver one last fatal blow to the head. The deranged man lifted the board for the final strike before getting distracted by a noise, a creak. He twisted around. It was _her_.

He lowered his arms as he bolted towards the woman. "Don't even think about trying to escape, bitch!"

She, in panic, grabbed a cleaver and lunged it into the psychotic man's left shoulder. Blood splattered and sprayed the walls and floor. He let out a searing scream as she attempted for the door again, but with his right arm, grabbed her ankle, effectively tripping her, causing her to drop her only means of defense.

Without giving the woman a chance the react, the man seized her by the neck and pressed down with all of his force, smiling maniacally, teeth, drool and all, while she squirmed and scratched at him. He pressed and pressed until he finally crushed the life right out of her.

Chuckling, laughing, the man fell to the ground, sobbing. What had he done?

He looked at his ex-wife and son's bodies. It was too late. There was no turning back now. He had to complete the final step.

The man took the bloody cleaver from the floor, and welcomed it's cold, sharp edge with his own neck. _Sweet dreams, Mihael …_

* * *

Matt looked up from his game. Right on time, he smirked to himself.

"How much trouble did you get into?" He prodded.

Mello halted and gazed at the gamer. Matt was not on the list of the students considered as candidates for the succession that Roger had given him, so he had to be barred from the secret.

"I need to go study," was all he could say. The conversation with Roger had left him in shock. L, he had a chance to actually _become_ L. That's not all, the rankings _mattered_. This whole thing was a competition for something much greater after all, competition for the tile of "the world's best," and as long as Near held the top spot in the rankings, Mello would always be second rate, and he had had enough.

This time, it would be different. This was L, and he was not a man. He was a goal. He alone symbolized perfection and success at its highest, indestructible, commanding respect from the rest of the world. If Mello could successfully defeat Near and earn that title, there would never be a need for another unreliable pedestal again, because _he_ would be the one standing atop the only one that mattered.

Mello now had the opportunity to show not just Near, but the whole damn _world_ his worth.

"Seriously?" Matt whined, "You just hit second today! Don't you have anything else to talk about?"

How bothersome. Why did he have to bring it up now?

Mello pushed Matt aside. "Look, if you wanna be nosy, why don't you ask the other mindless gossiping fools around here who had been at the scene? Or better yet, go pester Near about it. I'm sure the top honcho would love to point out my inadequacies to you." He had been ashamed of his behavior earlier, and it had been the last thing that he had wanted to talk about, so he did not bother to hold his anger back.

Matt shrugged, but Mello knew he had hurt something. Oh well. Matt never gave a shit about anything long enough for it to really leave a scar, and besides, the prying kid had asked for it anyway.

"Whatever." The brunet walked back to his room. _Geez, what's his problem? _Matt rolled his eyes. He would usually take the time to play with Matt after a victory, especially one as as big as this, so why the sudden change now? All he ever cared about was study, study, and more study. And Matt had only asked an innocent question. What did he have to take it out on him for? Matt kicked away an empty box of cereal in his already messy room. A pair of tinted goggles flew out as the box landed on top of a pile of unwashed clothes.

Oh, he had forgotten about those. Goggles, pfft! Who needed those? It wasn't like he enjoyed swimming. Matt smirked at the thought of him doing any physical activity, and for sheer amusement, decided to put the goggles on.

Immediately, the world darkened.

The goggles. They shielded that world from him. No, rather, they shielded _him_ from the world. He was hidden from from the inhospitable outside now, inconspicuous, insignificant, invisible, nothing important, just like everyone else. No one could hurt him, because no one would notice him, because he didn't even matter anymore.

He kept them on for the remainder of the day, and came nighttime, the boy closed his eyes and dozed off. When he opened them again, it was already morning. Matt systematically yawned, got out of bed, changed out of last night's clothes, brushed his teeth, and headed for the breakfast table.

He did not bother to take off the goggles.

…

Mello labored, grinded, and toiled day and night to no avail.

A month passed. Still second. Two months. Always second. Three. Still, always.

He was catching up to Near, moving closer and closer, but never quite reaching him, like the thirsty horse that could only get as close to the river as possible without ever being able to take a sip, and each day the closer he got, the more unbearable that thirst became. Meanwhile, the closer he got to Near, the further away L hung from him, when he had wanted nothing more than the exact opposite. What a sick joke. Still, Mello continued laboring, grinding, toiling, desperately hoping to get a sip of that sweet water of triumph.

A year passed, and still nothing changed.

Matt had wondered when he and Mello would ever get the chance to play together again, but it became more and more apparent that latter could never surpass Near and so would never have time for Matt anymore. Inevitably, they grew apart.

…

The 11 year old blond furiously clicked his mouse in panic, but it was no use. That brat had managed to uncover another clue and was another step ahead of him. While he only had two more tasks left to complete for the assignment, he had already lost most of his teammates, and Near still had a few more players, or pawns rather, on his side. _Stupid careless Matt!_ If only he had kept his eyes open for a little while longer, they could have had a significant advantage.

His opponent calmly crossed out another task on his list. Only one more left to go, and then game over.

"Check the north area of the map again." Near commanded a fellow classmate over the messenger client.

"But I just did that!"

"Don't underestimate M. He could very well have set up a decoy there earlier knowing we would check once. Go back and check again."

The boy shot Near a dirty look over his computer from across the room but conceded.

Fifteen minutes later, Near's team had emerged victorious from the simulation. Game over.

"You came awfully close, and if it weren't for some unreliable members on your team, you might have even won." Near said off-handedly while somehow rotating three Chinese health balls in his one tiny palm after they had gotten their evaluations back for the simulation game. He had meant it, because Mello made several clever, unpredictable moves that not even Near had caught onto until it had almost been too late, but all Mello heard was the phrase "might have."

"You're a cheater anyways. Don't think I didn't notice your secret message to Linda, trying to convince her to betray our team and cheat for you. I ought to have the prof fail you for that."

"Exchanging information for mutual benefit is not the same as -"

"Bull! Do you think I'm an idiot?" Mello did not want to know the answer. "I knew what your intentions were. Good thing she was dumb enough to get herself booted before even more information could have been leaked."

Near sighed in the way that Mello hated, "Well in any case, your argument is null if you have nothing to back it up."

Mello scowled. He did not have to take this.

"If you had agreed to be on my team, we could have easily won." Near remarked nonchalantly.

"So the only way I can ever win is if I work with, or rather should I say, work _under_ you?"

"It would help if you could be a little less defensive about the things I say, Mello." His voice was still calm, but it had a slightly sharper edge to it now, "I was simply voicing my opinions."

But Mello's was sharper. "And I'm simply voicing mine. And why shouldn't I be defensive? Any time I let my guard down, you find a way to trap me and make me look bad."

"I deny that statement, and you have no proof."

"Don't start this crap again! You've always thought of me as some sort of hazard. Always treated me like a criminal, judging me, looking down on me." Mello seethed. "It was not enough to just leave me be. Now you feel like you gotta babysit me, control me, keep me under your thumb like a prisoner with no rights." Ever since the day of their confrontation, Near had suddenly decided to start initiating conversation with Mello, however brief they might be. It had to be because Near had seen that simply ignoring Mello was not going to calm him down, so he had taken it upon himself to restrain him by keeping him under constant surveillance, continuously trying to trap him through the facade of extending peace, but he was not fooling anyone.

"That is incorrect. You assume too much. I simply think that we would make a good team given our distinct strengths and weaknesses. I'm sure if you thought it through, you would also -"

"I'm not stupid, Near!"

Another sigh. "I never said -"

He hated that sigh. "Of course I know of where my weaknesses lie!"

_Of course he must always focus on the negative of what I say. _It was beyond irritating.

"Sure we could team up. Yeah, you'd like that, wouldn't you? So you can order me around and use me as another tool to accomplish _your_ goals? Well even if our destinations are the same and our rate of success would increase tenfold, I would still rather work alone and _fail_" he practically spat the word out "than to take orders from you."

The younger child glowered at him, that stubborn boy. No matter how hard Near tried to make peace, no matter what he said, Mello would always find a way to interpret it in the worst way possible, would always make Near play the bad guy in the end. Not that what Mello had accused him of weren't true, to some extent, but his presentation was too one-sided and hostile, picking out Near's worst traits and throwing it back in his face, challenging him, provoking him. As a result, Near, incapable of backing out of a challenge, would respond in the necessary manner to confront his opponent, provoking him right back. A positive feedback loop.

"Very well then." He could have stopped there, but he could not help but add on "In any case, if and when you _do_ feel like you can handle collaboration, feel free to let me know." Near turned and started rotating the health balls in his palm again.

Mello pounded at a nearby table with his fist. Did that arrogant little punk just give him _permission_? As if Mello had been the one who had wanted to work together? Pretentious, manipulative jerk.

"I _can_ handle collaboration. It's _you_ that I can't stand!" He shouted at Near, but the boy did not react. He was ignoring him again, the final blow to Mello's ego like in all of their contentions. He would always do that, have the last word and then go silent, and it never failed to have the effect of making Mello feel so small, driving home the insult. He wanted so badly to knock the daylights out of that brat, but he knew that that would only make Near look better. Grudgingly, Mello stormed out of the room, unable to continue sharing the same air with the fucker.

As soon as the blond left, Near hurled the health balls against the wall and rested his chin on his knee, pouting. Whenever he had started to feel threatened to the point where he felt that he could no longer keep his emotions from surfacing, Near's last resort, his final defense mechanism, was to simply block the outer world out, to crawl into himself, ignoring everything and everyone. His silence was a form of self-defense, but he knew that Mello would interpret it as an deliberate attack instead. Near sighed in frustration.

But he'll come back, the boy affirmed. He always does. It was a troublesome thought. And at the same time, it was comforting.

…

Birthdays weren't any sorts of big deals at Wammy's, so Matt's 11th one was nothing special either. He slept with no expectations, not knowing that his peace would soon be cut short.

A knock. Two knocks. A string of knocks. A groggy Matt checked the clock. 6:18 AM. _What the hell?_ He pulled the pillow over his head. The knocking increased in volume, joined by a muffled, horribly familiar, voice. "Matt! MATT! I know you're awake! Open the door, you lazy -"

He flung it open. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Mello immediately calmed down and resumed his serious demeanor. Matt grimaced. The boy looked terrible, like a zombie straight out of some crappy horror film, with bags under his eyes, disheveled hair, and a shirt smeared with chocolate stains, his only source of fuel nowadays.

"Look, man. I need a favor." _Typical_. "The past few days, I've been sleeping through my alarms, no matter how many I set. I've wasted too much time already because of that, and I really can't afford to lose any more hours." His voice had an underlying pleading tone, but his eyes were demanding, focused on Matt's own, unyielding.

_Damn_, Matt cursed silently, unable to look away. He sure knew how to play this game.

"I'm about to crash, but if I do so now, I know I won't wake up for at least another 6 hours. That's why I need you to give me a wake up call at exactly 8:30 AM, and if I don't pick up or sound like I'm still asleep, I need you to come knock on my door until I do wake up, and you have to make sure that I'm actually awake. Got it?"

"Dude, you should just get some rest! Seriously, you're going to drive yourself into an early grave at this stage." He knew L was a big deal and all (it had taken him awhile to fully digest the information when Matt himself had been informed too), but there was no reason for him to kill himself over it. He rolled his eyes.

Mello said nothing.

_Damn_, he cursed again. "Fine, if I agree, will you let me go back to sleep?"

Mello smiled, although it was more like an exhausted twitch of the lips than an actual smile. "Thanks." He left.

The tired boy plopped back onto his bed and set his own alarm to 8:25 AM, annoyed to have to wake up early on a weekend. Why must he always do what Mello asks?

He had thanked him. Matt blinked, registering this random thought. Mello had never once even hinted that he had appreciated anything Matt had done for him, so why would he thank him now? Because he was at a dead end, and Matt was his last resort so the thank you would heighten the chance that he would continue to help him in the future? Because he was simply too tired and let the words slip without thinking about it? Because it was Matt's birthday, so that was an obligation of some sort?

Matt could think of several excuses as to why Mello would let those two words drop. Yet it never even occurred to him the possibility that those words might have just simply been sincere.

...

Months later, Mello received a notice from Roger. The 15 current candidates still in running were allowed for one afternoon to speak with L from a computer screen, to ask him anything. He jumped at the opportunity. Now was his chance to impress L, to set himself apart from the crowd. He could ask a question. Any question! But what could he ask? Mello grimaced in frustration. There was nothing that he could think of to ask the detective that the others would not have already thought of, nothing to make him stand out. He went through countless different scenarios, but none of them had any merit. The chocolate was starting to melt under the heat of Mello's hand, not so much unlike his nerves.

In truth, there weren't really any questions that Mello had wanted to ask L anyways, except for the only one that mattered and the only one that he could _not_ ask: "Who will become your successor?"

So he had said nothing, but he had not once during the entire process taken his eyes off the computer screen where the elegant letter was printed. He silently observed while listening to every syllable of the synthetic voice. To his annoyance, Near basically did the same.

"If it means winning a case, I need not always play fair. In truth, I'm a dishonest human being who simply hates losing." The computer voice responded bluntly to another question.

Mello's eyes widened. _So, by any means necessary, L?_

His lips paused upon contact with the chocolate bar. _Any means necessary …_


	7. Risk

(I don't say this often enough, but THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed/fav'd this. Really, whenever I get a notice, it just brightens my day by thiiiiiiiiiis much [stretches arms out]. Okay, I'll stop acting like an idiot. But yeah, I really do appreciate it!)

(Warning: There's more violence in this one as well, but this will be the last of that kind, I swear!)

Disclaimer: Who does Death Note belong to? Not me!

* * *

**Risk**

The newly orphaned five year old had known that the finite resources of their home would not last him and the newborn for long, so he started venturing into the unfamiliar outside as a seemingly innocent little boy, trailing behind others in order to look like he was part of a group or family while constantly studying the world around him, searching for options.

He studied several candidates before finally settling on the old lady, who lived alone as a reclusive researcher, possessing access to several resources and the latest technologies while holding no close relationships that could get in the way. She was cold and selfish and would certainly not care for some random orphans, but she was observant as well. She had quickly noticed how gifted the boy truly was and had thus provided him shelter, secrecy, and pitifully minimal payment in exchange for his gift, his unnatural intellect, in forwarding her own goals. But in reality, he had planned for this to happen, had actually been the one doing the real manipulation, coaxing her into forking over more resources and connections under _her _name in order to facilitate those get-rich-quick schemes. It was at that point that the boy discovered the power of anonymity.

The first false identity he secured was the woman's, and others soon followed. He started giving anonymous advice and leaking information to shady figures behind her back, taking advantage of his stash of alter egos, followed by more risky feats, bribing, blackmailing, and swindling powerful people, authorities and criminals alike, starting underground wars, making alliances with one identity, breaking them with another, and of course, profiting from it all. Outdoors, he'd pretend to be an innocent kid while secretly observing and acquiring more information. Indoors, he'd pretend to work for his benefactress while secretly studying and plotting his next move. Eventually he was able to make money, dirty money, without her.

He had only made one mistake. Despite working sleepless days and nights in the house, he hardly ever set foot in its basement, where a safely stowed, but lonely, needy, and likewise dangerously brilliant toddler had grown increasingly resentful over time. By the time the old lady started to suspect the boy of dubious activities, started questioning him about the true origins behind those mysterious mails and packets marked "unknown source," it had already been too late.

They were vengeful and unforgiving, and he had no choice but to give up everything.

…

Even while she had been dying attempting that bring that piece of shit into this world, his mother could only think of the baby's safety, making him promise that he'd do everything to keep the newborn alive if she couldn't make it herself.

"I promised." He jerked Nate up by the arm and hissed, "But there are other means of garbage disposal!" He would not kill him, but he would leave him, alive and alone, for good.

Only then did Nate finally start to panic. _Wrong move._

* * *

It wasn't so much that Near had wanted to speak to Mello more as it was that he saw him as a valuable ally, someone whom being on good terms with would be beneficial. Mello's weaknesses were great, but his strengths were far greater, and they filled in the holes of Near's own personality, as much as he hated admitting it. While Near had the patience and focus, Mello had the drive and courage to take risks. Everything one lacked, the other provided, but both of them knew that neither was a team player.

One couldn't help but subordinate those around him, and the other would rather shoot himself than share his spotlight with anyone else.

Ironically, the only traits that they _did_ have in common was precisely what kept them apart, for they were both distrustful, they were both competitive, and they were both extremely childish.

...

The children were so distracting, and Near wished that they could just take their senseless gossip elsewhere and leave him in peace, but they stayed and chattered away anyway, possibly on purpose just to annoy him. Near would not allow them to have the pleasure of affecting him, so he continued working on his sixth Rubik's Cube with his back turned.

"Only fifteen? I can't believe that they couldn't even track down a teenager for so long! The police sure are incompetent." They continued.

"Yeah, I bet L could have solved it in his sleep."

"But the guy was pretty impressive. I mean, he managed to maneuver his way into some of the most powerful and influential criminal organizations in the nation at such a young age."

"There's nothing impressive about a criminal! He murdered people too, didn't he?"

"Chill, I just think he'd make a great research topic. What was his name anyway?"

"The police still haven't been able to figure that out yet."

"Ugh, incompetent!"

But Near knew who the criminal was. He had known for years, had discovered the identity behind the mystery murderer, thief, and con artist before the police could even narrow down on a specific area. To be fair, however, the boy did have a significant advantage over the police in solving this particular case, but he had never informed anyone of his findings.

"Did you read about the fight that took place when they finally discovered his hideout? It was brutal!"

His name was Nicholas River, an ambitious, devious, genius orphan who had once lost everything due to the actions of his younger brother, thus finally giving in to pure crime.

"I'm just glad they finally shot and killed the bastard."

An unfinished Rubik's Cube hit the floor.

…

Mello was nervous, having just received a note from Roger. His improvement rate had slowed significantly, closing in on it's plateau, and although he was so close, he had still not been able to reach Near's level. Surely Roger had noticed. Perhaps even L and Watari knew. What could he do to convince them that he still had a shot?

He knocked once.

"Come in."

And opened the door only to be greeted with the sight of Near sitting on the floor as well, and although it did not please him, that sight provided relief, as it meant that he was not here due to academic inadequacies.

"Near, Mello," Roger began. "Congratulations."

Mello gaped, because both of them, with perception that practically bordered on telepathy at that point, already knew what Roger was about to say. The selection pool had been narrowed down to only two candidates now, and N and M were the last ones still in the running. Somehow, he had managed to make an impression, despite his academic ineptitude, despite all of his failures. He had clearly done something right, but how much of it really had to do with rank? Perhaps worth was not strictly measured by the House's rules after all.

_By any means necessary_, L had implied. L did not play by the rules all the time, so why should anyone else do so either?

The pressure that now accompanied this new accomplishment crushed against Mello's back with more force than ever, but something inside the blond flickered with life, and although he did not know what, Near noticed those awfully familiar warning signs. Concern clouded the silent, perceptive boy's features.

…

Throughout the following months, Wammy's House saw a change in Mello. He was still the same driven, hardworking boy, but there was something more spirited, more aggressive, more malicious about this new version. He had craved success so badly and had been continuously denied it over and over that his obsession practically bordered on mania. He would do _anything_ to surpass Near at that point, to earn L's title.

So he started breaking rules, dodging authority, challenging them, asserting his dominance over the other children via bullying, similar to what they had done to him when he had been the new kid at Wammy's, except Mello pulled it off much better than any of them ever could. A vast majority of the children became intimidated by M, who had already decided that if he could not reach the top of the academic ladder, he could at least wield power in other ways, bribing, blackmailing, and forcing the others to conspire with him, work for him, a strategy that worked well when it came to those detective simulation games involving teams, as he had even defeated Near a few times.

However, that intimidation strategy did him no good when it came to paper exams and individual competition, so he continued to hang at second.

…

"You're getting closer." Another exam's results were revealed.

"Don't remind me." Why? Why was Near, freakishly calm and collected as always, still able to hold such power over him by simply _not_ reacting to him like the others?

Near mused. His rival's attitude and actions were all in the spirit of the competition for now, but it wouldn't take much for him to descend further and further into his impulses. Would he eventually give in to crime as well, desperate to achieve his goals by any means possible and subsequently hunted and gunned down like a dog? As young as fifteen ...

Mello looked down on the few, almost non-existent red marks on his paper, seeing nothing but a single crimson indication of failure. Those problems, he he had known how to solve them, so why wasn't he able to get it right during the actual exam? Mello never attributed mistakes like those to situational causes such as stress and test anxiety but to self-perceived intellectual deficiencies. He grimaced as if in pain.

"I don't understand how L could choose me …" He murmured to himself at an almost inaudible voice, but it was audible to Near. The dejected runner-up shoved a boy who just happened to be standing too close aside in order to vent his frustration.

Mello was heading down the road to certain self-destruction at this rate, Near continued thinking, and neither of them were completely faultless. Could he possibly do anything about it? By appeasing him with the acknowledgment, respect, and praise that he had craved all those years? Had that happened three years ago, they could have possibly even been friends, but Mello held such a biased opinion of him now, and the rate of success was no more than 8%.

"You weren't chosen as a candidate for no reason. Your personality traits make you a formidable opponent in this race." He could try.

Mello looked taken back. "What do you mean?" His tone was no longer as hostile.

"Your passion and willingness to act. They are great strengths, ones that few of us possess." _And ones that I certainly don't possess_, he silently admitted.

Hadn't Mello always taken risks? Unlike Near, he did not always take the least dangerous route, but courageously traveled every path without faltering. He would take risks, make mistakes, learn from those mistakes, and grow stronger. Often, unpredictability and chance actually worked in his favor. It was one of the attributes Near admired most about Mello, that daring courage. If he could succeed in reaching out to him, the results would be worth it. Perhaps Near could fix what he had caused. Perhaps he could prevent a tragic future. Perhaps it would alleviate those pesky side-effects of solitude, or what most people termed loneliness, as well.

More and more children gathered around the pair. Everyone, even newcomers, knew of M and N's rivalry and were intrigued that for the first time, the two seemed to be reaching some sort of understanding. But there were doubts, and silent bets started going around the huddle.

"You're up to something." Mello accused, but the edge was softening.

All or nothing, but perhaps it was time to be courageous as well.

"I know from observation just how capable you are of doing things for yourself."

"Hmph." Still distrusting. "You never once noticed me as anything more than a threat to society."

Near hardly ever looked at anyone even when speaking directly to them, but at that moment, he looked at Mello, although his expression remained empty. "I've noticed you since the very beginning." And to prove his point, "I even know the reason why you're at Wammy's, something that I'm certain no other student had been aware of."

Mello took a step back. "W-what do you mean?" He had a feeling that Near wasn't referring to the succession.

"You didn't come to this orphanage via invitation, but rather, you invited yourself." He stated bluntly.

The children were all eyes and ears now. They turned to Mello for his reaction, but his face, for once, held no emotions whatsoever.

"In actuality, the staff did not admit you in the traditional manner. You did it all on your own. You convinced them. You were the only one out of all of us who had, by your _own_ initiative, brought yourself into this institution." Near continued monotonously. "You're here because of that will." Although he tried to force some praise into his tone, his voice continued to remain flat. Near was too used to relying solely on words to do the convincing for him.

Low whispers spread across the huddle.

"You knew." Mello murmured.

"The more I observed you, the more sense it made, and I eventually figured it out. Yes, Mello, I had known this entire time." Near watched him analytically. Was this working? "That's why you deserve the recognition you receive." Hinting at the succession now, "That's why you are where you are now." That forced tone of sincerity left a foreign, undesirable aftertaste.

Mello simply gawked. He had never told anyone, had kept it to himself the entire three years he had been here, but Near, whom he thought had never taken him seriously, had in fact actually known about his secret, the secret that no one else knew, this entire time. It was impressive.

"Near …"

And it was disgusting! His secret, that he had tried to suppress and forget, that he had been a Wammy's House reject, that he had initially been denied admission because he had failed the diagnostic tests, that he had to stoop so low as to practically beg the staff to let him in, to be the _exception_, Near had known, had exposed him, and now the entire fucking _House_ knew.

God, those horrible whispers!

"... special case ..."

"... no wonder he ..."

"... that even allowed?"

They all knew that Mello, whom they had finally started to respect, had actually been labeled a failure, a pity-case from the start. The reputation he had worked so hard to build was down the drain now.

"... actually declined ..."

"... wasn't good enough?"

It had been, Mello's face darkened, not praise at all, but the _worst _humiliation!

"Near." He repeated, tone now taking on a complete 180.

_Wrong move_, Near thought at once. Too late. Too much damage had already been done to their ever deteriorating relationship for Mello to take anything Near said as reassuring. Most of the children were actually whispering positive things about Mello, and any other person would have certainly heard those praises, but not that insecure boy, who could only hear the most offensive portions.

"... rejected ..."

Near scolded himself. He should have known better. He attempted to remedy the situation, face deadpan, "Mell -" But the air was suddenly knocked out of him as pain shot through his abdomen. The spectators gasped.

Wrong move. Worst move. All because he had dared to care!

…

Matt jammed at the buttons of his hand-held game, but he was running out of time. "Come on … Come on …" The screen was dimming. "Shit, no." It slightly flickered. "Come on!" And went out. "Damn," he cursed. Why now of all times? He let out a breath, fixed his goggles, and headed out the door, defeated.

The path to the storage room was blocked by a mass of children. Matt sighed. All he wanted was some stupid batteries! What could possibly be so interesting that had almost the entire population of Wammy's at their toes?

He cut through the clump to see the unimaginable sight of the two potential successors struggling, exchanging blows, and flailing wildly like animals. He almost let out a laugh before he realized that the scene was indeed real. Matt rolled his eyes. Mello had never talked to him once in over two years except when he had needed something, and Near, he couldn't less about Near. Heh. They probably both deserved it anyway. The other onlookers were smirking, giggling, amused beyond reason. Fights like these did not happen often here, and for it to be between the top two students? This was a hoot, a priceless show! Their faces gleamed with twisted curiosity.

Mello had grown more and more aggressive over time, but Matt never expected him to reach this level of violence, or any level of violence for that matter, so soon. The children looked on, some laughing, some revising bets, some cheering them on. Matt scratched his head, unsure of what to do. This wasn't his fight, and it wasn't his responsibility, and it _was_ amusing, so why did he feel so uncomfortable?

Mello had now managed to force Near to the ground, gaining the upper hand, and was punching him repeatedly, obviously not even thinking clearly anymore. Suddenly, the scene was not so funny anymore. The smiles dropped as the intensity of the situation dawned on them, and Matt's eyes widened as something finally propelled him to move.

"Fuck!" He lurched at the pair, grabbing the blond, trying to pull him away.

Their faces were now grave, but most continued to remain frozen, watching. A few started running to inform someone, but none of them tried to help Matt.

"Shit!" What was wrong with everybody? "I should NOT have to deal with this!" He got in front of Mello and punched the boy hard in the jaw.

Mello blinked, suddenly recalling a vague promise he had made to himself three years ago after losing his temper to N upon hitting the midpoint of the rankings. If only promises had been so easy to remember, to keep.

"Stop it, Mello!" Another punch. "Just look at yourself!" Matt screamed.

_Just look at_- Immediately, Mello's hold went limp as he allowed Matt to pull him off Near, but he could not tear his gaze away from that body.

Mello was trembling now, holding back tears, but they were no longer just heated tears of anger, but frozen ones of fear. That mutilated body before him, it certainly no longer belonged to Near. Yet he recognized it.

The staff rushed in and seized the terror-stricken child, as one man picked up the injured Near, who could now only move his eyeballs, and they shifted furiously from face to face. All those faces, he wanted them gone!

By taking a risk, he had damaged their relationship beyond repair now, and there was no longer anything he could do for Mello, for them. He would never dare to try again either, because this, Near gritted his blood-stained teeth, none of this was worth it anymore. _Mello._ Those eyeballs found the trembling blond under his damp, pale, jagged strands. _Had it not been for you, I would have never-_ He noticed himself trembling as well, uncovering something that was not quite fury, not quite fear, and not quite grief either.

What had started out as an innocent game of tug and war had over the years evolved into a self-destructive dynamite. No, he had to revert back to the way he had been before Mello came along and ruined everything. He had to revert back, even more, and then some. He could not take another chance.

From now on, in anything he did, Near would always analyze every outcome of an event in absolute objectivity first until he was certain that he had eliminated as much if not all chance of error as possible. Until he had reached such a level of certainty, he would never make a move. And he would never allow others' affairs to cloud his own judgments again unless they directly related to the game at hand. Let them drive themselves into a future of destruction, for their problems were theirs alone, not his to care for, to interfere with anymore.

As the man carried Near to the infirmary, the child willingly crawled back into his shell.

* * *

(It seems that the story's getting a little darker, but I don't know. Did I go overboard this time? This chapter doesn't seem to come out quite as nicely as I intended it too. The transitions weren't really all that smooth and some parts felt way too rushed. In any case, please let me know if anything doesn't sit well.

And just to clarify the time line, at this point of the story, it's Spring 2003, N's 11 and both M's are 13, so we're reaching the end.

6/27/11 Update: I revised a large chunk of this chapter. In particular, I decreased the amount of violence as I realized just how over-the-top and unnecessary it really was. It would have also been way too ooc for Mello. I hope this change was for the better.)


	8. Hope

(GAH you guys are SO patient. Thank you! I'm sorry sorry sorry for taking needlessly long to update, but I fail at time management, and the heavy schoolwork + job hunting doesn't help either. So thanks for the patience, and have some free hugs! ^_^)

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note!

* * *

**Hope**

"I … I can't take it anymore." Her voice trembled as she dropped the dish rag to the floor.

Their family had not always been so unstable, so pathetic. They had been happy once, but at hat moment she just couldn't remember why.

"Not this again." A man whined.

They had had family bonding times, had comforted each other, laughed together, making the best out of their less than ideal financial situation. The man had been perfectly fine with such a lifestyle, but the woman had wanted more.

She swiped her hand across the counter, knocking the undried dishes onto the floor. "Just because your fine with being a bum doesn't mean the rest of us are!" She held back those tears that burned harder than acid. "We deserve better than this! I want to work, to make something of myself! I want a _real_ life damn it!"

The man sighed. "We have each other. Isn't that enough?"

But they had had unspoken grudges as well, and that laughter slowly faded with time. The small blond toddler peeked from behind the door, looking for the source of those noises that had kept him from sleeping.

"No! I can't stay here anymore. I'll get nowhere like this." Curse that man who had dragged her down with him. She could have been someone. "I'm gotta get away from this god damned place. From you." She hissed. And then she spotted him, the boy.

"Mihael, come with me." She demanded. "Mommy will take you to a better place." She reached for him.

But he was only three and could not comprehend the situation, only knowing that he was scared. He backed away in confusion.

"Mihael …" She was already furious.

He shook his head sporadically from side to side, not to say "No," but to say "Leave me out of this." Unfortunately, body language comprehension was not a universal skill.

"You … Both of you. I see how it is."_ Fine!_ How dare he choose that loser. She did not have to take this. She was better than all of this! She deserved more. She would break away from those who held her back and secure the freedom to make something of herself in her _own_ way.

She would show them. She would show them all.

* * *

It wasn't fair.

It was all just chasing an illusion. Every time he would reach the top only to discover that there had actually been another hill waiting for him. The climb never ended. He had worked so hard, harder than any of them, and just as suddenly as he had shot up, his improvement had stopped dead in its tracks. What kind of sick divine prank was this? Near, he hadn't even needed to work hard. Everything just came so fucking naturally to that undeserving punk, and what do those who constantly work themselves to the bone get in return? Where was the justice? He had wanted this more. He had needed this more. Hell, he _deserved_ this more. And it just wasn't fucking fair!

And now here he was, sentenced to temporary solitary confinement and permanent probation. The staff hated his guts, and the children feared him. He would forever be the villain of the House, and one wrong move could get him kicked out for good. Who knows? They might have already even taken him out of the running, which would have been no different than expulsion for him anyway.

Mello sat at the lone desk, both hands clenching fistfuls of hair, still shaken.

The most terrifying part of all was what he had seen in front of him and in himself, traces of that bastard. He was just like him. Useless, insecure, emotional, impulsive, violent. It was an accident, a momentary lapse of judgment. He hadn't meant to. Yet no matter how hard he had tried to justify or deny it, he still ended up being just like him! _Damn it._ He had lost himself, and now it's too late to take it back. _Damn it!_ Why did it have to end up like this? Mello clamped his eyes shut in an attempt to blot out the tears and the world.

What good came out of any of this? Perhaps he had shown Near his place, but not even that was worth it. It couldn't even be considered victory over Near anyway. The boy scowled. No, it felt nothing like victory. He did not feel proud at all, considering the savage way everything had played out. It was disgusting, shameful really. It anything, _he_ would have been the one who- Mello jumped out of his seat in realization, as both fists slammed onto the desk in utter defeat. _Near had won._

Because after this, Mello would never bring himself to directly attack him again. Because now, he was forever marked by the House, watched by the staff, branded by the shame of what resided within him, bounded by it forever. By letting himself succumb to that momentary madness, he had lost control of himself and therefore lost the game, placing himself under that brat's power indefinitely. N had always known where his buttons resided since the beginning, and now the entire fucking House saw him as a psycho. Mello clenched his fists so hard, his palms started to bleed under the pressure of his nails. But what could he do anymore?

He could threaten Near, but he would never be able to attack him. He could raise a fist, but he would never be able to strike. And even if one day, he could point a gun at his back at point-blank range, he would never be able to pull the trigger anyway.

...

Over time, everything became severed. Mello left Near alone, or rather, he actively tried to avoid him, only talking to him if it was absolutely necessary, such as to discuss some group project that they had both been unfortunately assigned to. Because he could not afford to lose himself again. He had to keep his distance from that kid, who was nothing but poison. Near, as well, distanced himself. He never looked up at Mello when he spoke to him, if he had to speak to him at all, anymore. In fact, he no longer even faced him, only conversing when necessary with his back turned. And not just with Mello. Near eventually adopted that practice with everyone.

The staff realized that the more time the two spent together, the more aggravating the situation would become, and the worse it would be for both their psyches, so they finally gave up on trying to encourage any interaction between the two. On the contrary, they opted to separate them even further, never assigning both to the same projects again, having each participate in entirely separate simulation games, placing their seats as far apart as possible in a classroom, hoping that the distance would do them good.

For months, M and N did not utter so much as a syllable to each other. Those were the most peaceful few months Wammy's House had seen in a long time. Underneath that false sense of peace however was an obvious tension, utterly straining. Mello had on more than one occasion broke down in the privacy of his room, more than one occasion questioned himself on whether or not staying around was worth it, seriously considering just accepting expulsion, breaking away from the system that held him back and securing the freedom to make something of himself in his own way. They wanted him gone anyway.

The pressure of forced silence and inhibition along with the neverending studies continued to take its toll on Mello. He constantly berated the system. What good were these paper exams when applied to the real world? Why should he have to restrain his behaviors just because the others were too weak to defend themselves? That's not how the outside operated! Wammy's House. It's rules. He detested them. With its impractical restraints and scoring systems, he could never win here, there was no hope for him left here. He would gaze beyond the gates longingly.

However, if this was the only way to get to L, to remain here, then he had to persevere, and how hard that was.

…

Kira this. Kira that. It had only been two days since the killings, no, murders had started, and it was already a huge topic of discussion at the institution. Everyone at Wammy's hunted for any information regarding the case, and M and N had been no exception. Although L had not publicly announced his involvement in the case yet, there had been rumors. Finally, they appeared to be confirmed when someone leaked the news that L would pay a visit to the orphanage in preparation for some big case, and he did not return very frequently.

Mello's eyes' lit up at the news. He could not miss this opportunity. If he didn't to something about those unanswered questions, he might just snap for good. That night, he requested one last favor at Wammy's from an old comrade.

…

With Matt's help in impairing a few selected surveillance cameras, Mello had been able to easily sneak to what he had predicted to be L's location. He had some lock picking tools hidden in his pockets, but to his surprise, the door had been unlocked, even slightly open. Was this expected?

He decided to knock anyway.

"Yes?" A voice that was both foreign and familiar greeted him. He took a breath.

Neither of them had been one to dawdle (although the detective's odd, unexpected appearance, completely unlike what Mello had imagined, did cause him to hesitate for a few seconds), so Mello cut straight to the chase after making the proper introductions. He wanted to confirm whether or not he was still in the running, as he did not trust the staff.

"As far as I know, and no one's informed me otherwise." L stated, as if it had been so obvious.

"But N outranks everyone, consistently. Wouldn't he be the clear choice, rendering this whole race pointless?" Mello kept his emotions down, attempting to match his tone with the detective's.

"Ah yes, that does make sense. He would be the obvious choice," L paused to nibble at a cupcake, "if he does indeed outrank everyone as consistently as you say. But unless I'm mistaken, don't the two of you have equal wins and losses in those detective games now?" He did not even make a reference to the other exams.

Mello considered the repercussions of his next statement, but if he did not get it off his chest, he might not get the opportunity to do so again. "You know that I often cheat on those." His instinct was to look down, to hide his face, but he mustered enough courage to keep his composure. For some reason, he felt that L was testing him.

There was a pause as the detective unwrapped another cupcake, carefully and cautiously. He looked up at the ceiling, as if he were contemplating. "I also cheat."

The blond blinked. Of course, he had already known that, but to hear that as a response to his own admission of guilt was rather unexpected. He felt almost relieved, but something was not right. The test was still going. "But you still follow the rules."

"Ah, your right," as if he was realizing this for the first time. "So I do." Of course, if a game had no rules, it was not worth playing in the first place.

"I see," said Mello, even though L had not explained anything. "What matters is how clever you can be while still playing by the rules, or rather, how much you can cheat without getting caught. In that case, I suppose I need to find that fine line of distinction." The distinction between a clever detective and a desperate criminal.

"Yes, that would be ideal." L reached for some notes, clearly losing interest.

Mello couldn't stifle it anymore. "But I've already crossed that line." That shameful episode with Near, L had to have been informed already. "They wanted to take me out of the equation, and they came to you for permission, didn't they? But you didn't let them. Instead you kept me. Why?" He wasn't nearly as good at patience and subtlety as Near and L were apparently, but at that point, all Mello cared about was an answer.

"Probably because one of you possess something the other does not. Humans are imperfect beings." He says dispassionately, never once taking his eyes off the notes. "Now the question that remains is who will amend their flaws first."

_What?_ Mello pressed his lips together. What was this, some kind of freak personality evaluation? Still.

"Then I had clearly failed that test as well." He stated. His giving in to violence proved that, and he was practically treated as a criminal now anyway.

L looked down at the blond for the first time since his arrival, observing him with the finger tugging at a corner of his lip. Finally he said, "Let me tell you a story about another potential successor."

Everyone knew who B was, but very few knew the exact details of what had actually happened to him at the orphanage, and even fewer knew the details of what had happened afterward. That night, Mello heard the entire story. It frightened him, because he saw similarities between himself and B. On the other hand, it relieved him, because he also saw the differences. The detective did not disclose his intentions for telling the story, whether it be to warn M not to progress too far or to assure him that he had not progressed that far yet. That was not important to Mello anyway. All that mattered was the knowledge that while some people were lost causes, Mello was clearly not one of them. So L saw the potential in him, potential to improve his strengths and amend his flaws. He had hope for him. At that point, Mello himself knew that he really was worth something. And for the first time, he actually believed it too.

"I understand," said Mello, and that was enough.

"Well, that's good," L mumbled, holding by the corner some more notes that no doubt related to the Kira case. "I'm glad we cleared something up, but as you can see, I'm busy." The detective lifted a teacup with the other hand. "So if you don't mind, I'd like to continue this conversation another time." He took a sip. "You may leave now."

The fact that he intended to continue the conversation meant that there was a second portion to the test. He would re-evaluate Mello at another time, to see whether or not he had indeed changed for the better, both intellectually and emotionally. More importantly, it also meant that he had passed the first portion.

"Do you promise to execute Kira?" Mello dared to ask. "And come back afterward?"

L again stared at this bold, odd teenager with blank eyes, head tilted at a perfect 45 degree angle, as if he was eying not a person at all but some strange specimen. So this boy had already known that he was working on the Kira case even though he had not yet disclosed anything to anyone besides Watari about it. Finally shifting his attention back to the teacup, he stated "Very well, it's a promise." And took another sip. "Now please leave."

The blond nodded once and left without another word. He had not smiled in years, and suppressing that burning one now felt like the most physically demanding task he had ever undertaken. L had recognized his potential. All hope's not lost. Near might have thought he held all the cards, but this man, _he's _the final trump card, the only one Near did _not_ possess, and the only hope left for Mello to still win at this game. Mello would do anything for him, even if that meant persevering through Wammy's and all of its bullshit. If it would make L see him in a brighter light, give him that one last advantage over Near, he would do it. He may be Mello's only hope left, but thank god, there was still hope at all.

Out of sight and earshot, the adolescent broke into a run, setting free a smile so big and laughter so strong his face and stomach would ache for days.

"_Mello,"_

He would be good from now on. He would train himself to control his impulses. He would take those anger management sessions more seriously. He would play by the rules, or at least appear to, and when the detective finally returned with Kira's head, as promised, he would be there waiting, waiting for the next test.

"_and Near ..."_

And he would pass, because L would see an M, one who would be as driven as ever but also more disciplined and focused, more fit for a successor, as he had intended. Mello had newfound strength now. He would handle his emotions and would never again get in trouble with the staff, which translated directly to never again getting caught. L would see the result of his development. He would see how capable his potential, no, his _true _successor was.

"_Please come to my office."_

All he had to do now was wait patiently, and he did. For the first time, Mello felt a real sense of self-control to the point where he could confidently call temper a problem of the past. Mello followed the Kira case religiously for any sign of it's ending. He waited diligently for the only man that even mattered anymore, the only man that had, for the first time in ten years, given him a reason to laugh again. And the only man that had, for the first time in Mello's almost _fourteen_ years of existence, finally convinced him that he was anything more than worthless.

"_What is it, Roger?"_

The staff hated him, and Near still outranked him, but who cares what they think anymore? So long as L saw his worth, he still had a shot. When it came to L, Mello was, for once, a step ahead of Near. He was essentially the boy's last and only hope left here.

"_L is -"_

But of course, even _that _had to be taken away from him.

* * *

(dfhksdfhlsdkjf.)


	9. Silence

(ENJOY!)

Disclaimer: Death Note does not belong to me.

* * *

**Silence**

_Silent misunderstandings._

Once the child finally fell asleep, Nicholas made his escape, smiling mournfully for his younger brother. "Sorry Nate, but what I do is too dangerous for you to be involved." He turned off the lights. "It's better for you to just remain here, safe and sound and unaware." Hours later, Nate woke up to the darkness, waving his hands around only to touch nothing. His brother had had left him all alone again. The boy pouted, lonely, resentful, bitter, so confused as to why his brother cared so little for him, why he had wanted to get away from him so badly. He turned on the lights, unable to go back to bed until he could come up with a better plan.

_They could destroy brothers._

"Dad, wake up," Mihael nudged. His father slapped his arm aside. "She's almost gonna be here, Dad. We haven't seen her in over a year. Don't you miss her?" The intoxicated, heartbroken man could only murmur nonsensical phrases, "always wanting more ... gave her my heart ... never enough ..." The doorbell rang, but the groggy man would not budge. The woman standing outside fixed her elegant clothes and hair once more. "You tried to keep me down, to deny me of everything I wanted, but wait till you see me now." As the door opened, a demure boy looked up. There he stood between two warring parents, both forever accusing him of and resenting him for siding with the other, but the innocent child never understood what it was he had done that had been so wrong.

_They could destroy families._

He laughed as the new kid got another problem wrong. "It's not funny!" Mello snapped, punching Matt in the arm. "Fine, where did I mess up?" Mello studied diligently as the brunet walked him through the problem to the best of his abilities, grateful to have Matt there to help him. He considered thanking him, but as his tutor smirked at him, like this was all just a joke of some sort, indignant Mello could only bring himself to muster an "okay fine, next one." Matt scowled as the ungrateful boy turned to the next problem without so much as acknowledging his efforts, but he shrugged the negative thoughts off, opting not to care. As the new kid got another problem wrong, Matt contemplated pointing it out to him, but instead he could only laugh.

_They could destroy friendships._

Mello stared in pain at the results from his first detective simulation game. How could he hope to succeed L if he could not even solve a single case before - "You did well on your first try," that cold, robotic voice droned behind him. "Why are you suddenly talking to me now?" He snapped. Near looked to the side, twirling his hair as if nothing mattered, as if everything was beneath him. "Must I always have some ulterior motive?" So condescending. "I'm not falling for it. What do you want?" But his rival had gone silent again, careful not to aggravate the boy any more than he already was for both their sakes. "Well?" He got nothing, so naturally Mello interpreted it in the only way he ever did. "You still think you're so much better."

_They could even destroy rivalries._

Near, motionless and lifeless, unable to rip his gaze away from the door that had just slammed shut, simply stood in utter silence as time ticked itself away. Nestled in his embrace was a completed jigsaw puzzle, thoroughly blank save for one lone letter residing in the upper left hand corner. He could feel Roger approaching behind him, and he knew that the one who had just departed would never return through that door again.

_Great is he who could understand silence._

* * *

L was dead.

Killed, murdered by his own prey.

How easy it had been for him to just calmly sit there and absorb that unbelievable piece of news came as a shock to Near as well, but it had left him neither happier nor sadder, only bitter. _How could you?_ He finished the jigsaw as if he had not heard a word from Roger, slapping the last piece down with a loud "snap" as hard as he could as the letter, L, became whole again. _How could you have let this happen to you?_

"Dead? But how? _Why_!" came Mello's outburst.

_How could you lose?_

"It was Kira, wasn't it?" As if he didn't already know or was simply refusing to believe what he had already known. "Kira did this?"

"Most likely." Roger sighed.

"He promised he would execute him!" Mello seized the unsuspecting old man by the collar and jerked him up to face him. L, he had promised defeat Kira, to return, to come back for him. He had _promised_! He was his last and only chance left! Why? Why was this happening? "And now your just going to tell me that he's gone?" His gripped tightened. This just _couldn't_ be happening!

"Mello!" Roger gasped just as a cacophony of clattering noises resounded through the room. The boy loosened his grip as he turned see several puzzle pieces falling onto the floor one by one as Near shook them free.

"If you can't win the game, if you can't solve the puzzle, then you're simply the loser." L had lost, plain and simple, and it would do no good to waste time brooding over it now, for the game had not yet ended just because one battle's lost.

Mello seethed, but he had understood. After all that effort spent controlling his emotions those past several months, he now found it possible, even under current conditions, to regain his composure. He wasn't satisfied yet though. He took a deep breath to clear his mind. _Fine_, "so which one of us did L choose?"

Roger looked down. It was clear that he had not wanted to answer the wholly expected question. "He didn't have a chance to decide, you see ..."

Of course he hadn't, Mello's face tensed, so now what? A plethora of rushed, disorganized thoughts filled his mind. L was out of reach forever, and with him gone, Mello had no clue as to what he could do anymore, what chance he had left, who or what would decide the outcome of the succession, but somebody _had_ to succeed L, and that was a fact that just could not be ignored. Mello hardly ever had any difficulties deciding among options, but this time, he honestly did not even know what to do anymore.

"Mello, Near, how about the two of you work together?" An innocent suggestion, but that settled it. He had heard it so many times. _Why not work together? _Nobody ever trusted that he could do anything on his own without someone there to manage him, and to work under Near of all people, well, that was the ultimate insult. Suddenly, all confusion dispersed as Mello knew exactly he would do, what he had always wanted to do. There was only one person that he could rely on now.

"That's impossible." He found firmness, supported by his newfound resolution. "You know that we don't get along." He eyed Roger, who held skepticism in his expression, as if to say "No Mello it's _you_ who won't get along with Near," but he refused to let that get to him. This institution, this lifestyle, these people, they were all meaningless to him now.

Near shot Roger a mental glare without lifting his head. The old man had made the right suggestion but at the wrong time, and this wasn't going to end well, but he refused to interfere. Roger had brought this all upon himself, so he would leave it up to the two of them to deal with their own matter. In the process of finishing the jigsaw a second time, Near waited expectantly for a confrontation.

"It's fine, Near can be L's successor."

The hand wielding the puzzle piece instantly froze. What was going on?

"Unlike me, Near won't get emotional, he'll just go about everything patiently as if it were a puzzle." It was a statement of fact, not praise, Mello assured himself.

He should have felt satisfied with this outcome, relieved even, but instead Near felt sick as his stomach lurched. This was not Mello at all. It was difficult to believe that he would remain so oddly resigned about all of this, and it was impossible to even imagine that he would ever willingly give up on something, especially the one thing he had ever lived for. Something was awry.

"As for me, I'm leaving this institution!"

So that was it. Near's neurons fired furiously as he contemplated every outcome that could occur as a result, but with Mello, speculation just simply was not enough. He could speak up, he wanted to speak up now, but something pulled Near back within himself as if by reflex.

"Mello," Roger attempted to reason, but it was too late. He had already had enough. There was no use playing a game that he could never win, and as long as he was tied to the the House and its way of doing things, he would always be second, and in Near's own terms, "the loser." Everyone knew that under these circumstances, that brat was undeniably the winner, and if they were to both inherit L's title, well, that would only be because L had not yet decided and they had felt sorry for the runner-up. So he would give Near the title now at this orphanage, because his pride dictated it, because he was through with this round, but he was not giving up the game for good.

"I'm almost 15 anyway." A heated breeze brushed Near as Mello walked past him. The boy slapped down the final piece of the puzzle. So Mello was going to continue the next round of the game all on his own, starting from nothing. That was the extent of his ambition to surpass Near. The impassive child rested his chin on one knee, eyes fixated on the floor. And also the extent of his utter abhorrence towards him.

"I'll live life my _own_ way." The door slammed shut.

...

"Go away, Matt."

He picked up an electronic and examined it. Perhaps he could pawn something off as starter money.

"And so you decided to just forfeit the title to Near?"

Mello headed for the pile of clothes on his bed without even a glance at the intruder. "You wanted the dirt right? I told you what you wanted to know. Now return the favor and go away." Matt had always been so nosy, always so careless, always so passive aggressive, full of contradictions. Annoying, so annoying. Mello threw a jacket on and sighed. But he had also always been there for him when he had needed him most.

He forced himself to focus on the rest of the clothes as he shoved them into his backpack, desperately trying to blot Matt out. The guy was making this harder than it already was, and Mello didn't need this distraction. He had to do this for himself, by himself, and it was going to be a risky route.

So he ignored him, hoping to drive him away with his projected apathy, but the Matt refused to leave. He was curious, and he wanted an answer. _Why did you let N take it? _There were so many reasons Mello could give. Because he had had enough of this place, because he wanted to personally yank away from Near what he had nobly sacrificed himself, because he could not stand being paired up with the runt out of pity, because he wanted to earn L's title in his own way, because he could not possibly win by remaining here, because he wanted Kira's head just so he could at least destroy _something_, and he wanted it as quickly as possible. But instead what came out was, "It was the right thing to do."

Mello froze, unintentionally picturing a young blond child lying on the lobby floor, watching a smaller, pale boy stack one bar of chocolate candy on top of another. He saw that same child glancing at that little boy after a round of exam results had been posted, hoping to catch him glancing back. Then he saw him hitting second rank for the first time, when that taste had still been so sweet, when he had ran all around the House looking for the one he idolized and the one he modeled himself after.

_Damn it!_ He hated him, that was fact. Still he respected him. God, did he still respect the runt even after all this time! If anyone was worthy of L's title aside from Mello, it was him, and what Mello had said back at Roger's office had indeed been spoken with regard. It was Near who had motivated him to progress at Wammy's. It was Near who had caused him to realize his limits after their last confrontation. It was Near who had kept his emotions in check earlier when Roger announced the devastating news about L. Near had always been there, for him, against him, beside him, blocking his path, driving him forward, throwing him down, keeping him alert, making him whole. They were toxic for each other yet couldn't help but rely on one another, and neither had ever been able to completely sever themselves from the other, and that was precisely what made it all the more unbearable.

And for all that, the twit still and always possessed his sickeningly grudging respect, which only made Mello despise both Near and himself more than ever. He thrust the rest of his clothes in with so much force, the bottom of the backpack nearly tore.

"But why are you so determined to leave the orphanage?" Matt asked, "Unless you haven't given up on the fight yet." There was a moment of silence before he realized what Mello was planning to do afterwards. Was this guy crazy? Going by himself after the one that even L could not defeat. He was going to get himself killed. Though all he could say was, "Heh, well this House will sure get boring without you."

_Sorry Matt._ "Nobody will miss me." _I am perfectly aware of the danger involved._ "Except perhaps you." _That's why you're going to butt out._ "But _you'll_ get over it," a harmless side comment that practically spewed with unnecessary cynicism. He wondered if he had hurt Matt, and he hoped that he had. This was _Mello's_ fight and his alone. Until he caught Kira, until he reclaimed his rightful title, he could not allow himself to think about anything else or allow anyone else to get involved.

"This is what I have to do."

...

"Nobody will miss me," he had heard Mello's voice after coming around the corner at one end of the hallway, the same hallway that led to Mello's room and subsequently to the outside world.

_You're so sure of that? _Near had wanted to ask, but he would wait until after Mello left the room to make his move. What the blond was trying to do was reckless and unnecessary, and after careful consideration along with being pestered by Roger to no end, Near finally decided to act as the last resort in convincing him to stay. A few unwanted kids were peeking behind doors and corners. If anyone could do it, they all thought, Near could.

"Well then, good luck man." Matt sounded exasperated, having finally given up.

As Mello emerged from his room, heading towards the exit, turning from Near without even seeing him, the latter quickly opened his mouth only to find voice completely disabled. It didn't matter, because Mello suddenly stopped dead in his tracks all on his own, already aware of Near's presence without even needing to look back. Silence and stillness fell upon them, as if time had stopped just for the two of them them, allowing both one final chance, the last opportunity to say something.

Mello was almost trembling. Why was he here? What did he want? He gritted his teeth, unable to move. He had wanted to turn around just so he could confirm that his suspicions were correct, but he was afraid that if he did indeed see Near, he would never be able to turn back again. Why couldn't he just leave him be?

For what seemed like hours, the two simply stood as they were. Near's gaze pierced the other's back as he contemplated the situation before him. He had to say something, and he had to say it now. Something, anything. The adolescent, who now looked more like a little child than ever, cradled his puzzle board between both arms, grip tightening, determined, and still he was unable to utter a single word.

_No!_ Mello clenched his fists, he could not let this manipulative kid dictate his being any longer. He had to break free. Mello forcefully pushed one resistant leg forward. He had to go!

The timer was up, and the blond regained enough of himself to continue walking, pacing faster and faster, running, sprinting as if desperate to escape some impending vortex before it could draw him in any further. He bolted out the door, taking with him the last of any existing opportunities, and was gone.

Matt shrugged slightly more abruptly than usual before securing his hands in both pockets. Not even a goodbye. That impulsive bastard was going to get himself killed out there, and when that time closes in, he'll come crying to Matt again for help, but the brunet was determined that he would never help that ungrateful "friend" of his ever again. As he started to head back towards his room, he noticed N staring at the door behind him, the door that had only moments ago slammed shut. How long had that kid been stationed there?

Matt walked leisurely in the direction of the motionless, almost lifeless boy. _You wanted to say something to him, didn't you?_ Matt passed Near by and left him behind. _Why didn't you? _The still, unmoving youth did not tear his gaze from the door, but he had heard Matt approaching, and he knew what the latter was thinking. Well, Near thought, why _didn't_ I say something? He closed his eyes.

For the same reason he had refused to alert the police of his brother's identity upon discovery, for the same reason he had stopped approaching Mello all those recent months. This was Mello's choice, and it certainly was not the last they would ever see of each other. Regardless, Near had no business getting involved in what did not matter to him anymore. No, rather, this absolutely _could_ not matter to him anymore.

Roger stepped forward, gazing at the lone child sympathetically, "Near ... I'm -" The boy turned but did not look up at the old man. He simply relinquished his puzzle board to him and ordered, as if nothing had happened, "I need access to as many recordings of news broadcasts over the past year as you can dig up, particularly those involving the Yotsuba incident that occurred recently."

"Near ..." The old man began, incredulous, almost offended. Was this inhuman child not even affected the slightest?

"Also," he continued, "although I highly doubt he would leave it open to anyone, try to see if there's any way to access L's previous case files. We have no time to lose. Thank you for your assistance." And that really was all he had to say.

...

_Silent misunderstandings. _

_They could destroy brothers, they could destroy families, they could destroy friendships, and they could even destroy rivalries._

As Near strolled past the still-paralyzed Roger, he subconsciously glanced out the window for a flicker of a second. The main gates, they had been left ajar, open without any explicit purpose, yet gesturing in silence.

_But who could possibly understand silence?_

* * *

(Thank you everyone who encouraged me and had the patience to sit through all this this entire time! You have no idea how much that means to me. And I can't believe it's taken me this long to finally finish, but now I have 100000x more respect for all of you writers out there, especially multichap writers. *_* How do you people do it? And thank you thank you thank you to all reviewers!

Anyway, good day and good night! May we flail at each other another time. ^_^)


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